The Timing of a Hawk
by Sandylee007
Summary: Clint Barton has the perfect aim, but he doesn't always have the best timing. Here are five stories of when he was late. And one tale of when he was far too early…
1. 1 of 5 - A Date

A/N: SO… My head's been STUCK for days, trying to put together something. And then this rolled out like a tsunami. (chuckles) Before letting you get started…!

DISCLAIMER: OH, PLEASE…! I only have enough money to own ANYTHING involving Renner (other than DVDs) in my dreams. (sighs gloomily)

WARNINGS: Adult themes, probably some blood and gore in later chapters, language (sorry, Steve!), weirdness… Feels… Ya know, all that stuff you can expect from my tales.

Awkay, because I've kept going on and on long enough… Let's go! I REALLY hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

* * *

 ** _The Timing of a Hawk_**

* * *

1 – A Date

* * *

When Clint Barton was fifteen minutes late from their first date Laura, already sitting at a restaurant table, didn't panic. She was concerned, though. She didn't know what, exactly, he did for a living. But so far she'd met him six times at the ER where she worked as a nurse and every single time he was injured in one way or another. It didn't take a lot of brainwork to figure out that whatever his job-description was, it wasn't just deskwork. Somehow his solemn promise to not get himself hurt on this particular day wasn't very reassuring at the moment.

When he was half an hour late Laura frowned and sent him a text. She made a conscious decision to ignore how unsteady her hands were. She barely knew the guy, for crying out loud! And just because he'd already shown her just how good he _wasn't_ at taking care of himself… ' _You'd better not be at my ER right now._ '

There was no reply. Laura shifted with discomfort on her seat. Wondering how much longer she'd stay when she was far too aware of the looks of pity she was getting from the surrounding tables. She wanted to be pissed off. Wanted to send another, far less pleasant text. But something squirmed in the pit of her stomach, screaming that things were _wrong_.

She spent another humiliating half an hour there. Smiled politely at a waitress who stopped by and announced that 'No, my companion still hasn't arrived'. Consumed about a gallon of water. When a woman who seemed to be in her late sixties gave her a tiny smile of pity and sympathy, along with a shake of a head, Laura decided that she'd done enough waiting.

The cool air of late November evening embraced her harshly when she left the restaurant and she shivered, wishing that she'd picked a warmer coat. Fighting the embarrassing searing sensation in her eyes, she took a deep breath and braced herself for a lonely night with her TV and grocery store pizza.

Until a sudden voice made her squeak with startle and jump. Quiet and hoarse as it was. "I knew that you'd look stunning."

She spun around a little too quickly, forgetting the high heels she was wearing. Catching her balance, she gasped once and turned her head. Clint sat a few steps away from the building's entrance, wearing clothes that were definitely suitable for a date. She wasn't sure but he seemed to be trembling. "What are you doing sitting there?" was the most intelligible thing she could utter. Because… Seriously?

Clint shrugged. Then winced. "They, ah… wouldn't let me in." Which was when a passing by car cast just enough light to reveal the bruising on his face.

Laura stared and sighed heavily, tensing up from… Well, she was allowed to be worried. "You got yourself hurt again, didn't you?" How bad was it this time?

Clint shrugged again. And winced again. "A little." He swallowed thickly. And winced. "I'm… I wasn't supposed to be late. Sorry."

Laura couldn't help it. She smiled. And came to a conclusion that this man was going to be the death of her sanity. "Why didn't you just call me?"

He showed her his phone. Whatever little there was left of it, anyway. Enough of an answer. He then broke down to a storm of painful-sounding coughs and moaned, squinting his eyes in pain against lights of a passing by car.

Before Laura wasn't sure what to do. She was now. "Get up, you idiot", she murmured far more gently than she'd expected. "You should be in a hospital but I guess my place will have to do."

Clint's eyes widened. As much as was possible with one of them rapidly swelling shut, anyway. "You're… taking me to your place? On a first date?"

Laura should've been far more careful. This was a man she barely knew. And he probably had a concussion. Instead she lost control over herself yet again and laughed. "That's right, Barton. Consider yourself lucky."

His radiant, joyful grin made an army of butterflies flutter to life in her stomach.

* * *

They barely talked on their way towards her apartment building. Nervous like a pair of teenagers, both wondering what'd happen next. And what the other wanted to happen next.

Once they reached her apartment Laura stepped right in, only to discover that Clint froze to the doorway, glancing around. She giggled in a very embarrassing manner. "Great to see that you're a proper gentleman. But get in here before my neighbors start talking."

Clint smirked while he obeyed, closing the door behind him. "You just dragged in a guy who looks like he's gotten ran over by a steamroller. I'll bet they're already talking."

True, that.

They made their way to her bedroom in a comfortable silence. Clint looked around so subtly that she nearly missed it, a gleam of curiosity in his eyes. Laura wished that she'd taken the time to clean up a little. She would've if she'd known that she'd bring him home.

Clint was almost bashful when he sat slowly to the edge of her bed. He licked his lips, trying to get comfortable. "This… wasn't exactly how I pictured tonight ending."

Laura snorted. Finally finding her first-aid kit. "That makes two of us." She took a breath, wondering if this was all real. "Okay, then. Take off your shirt."

Clint hesitated in an absolutely adorable way, then obeyed. Laura's eyes lingered a little too long on his abs and chest. She'd seen them before when patching him up, but there, in the intimacy and privacy of her bedroom… Her heart did funny things. And finally some color appeared to Clint's unhealthily pale cheeks. The tips of his ears turned red.

Laura rolled her eyes. "I saw your naked ass when we first met", she pointed out. A bullet to the butt cheek on a Valentine's Day was what first brought them together. "A bit too late to feel awkward, don't you think?"

Clint pursed his lips. "True", he admitted and gave her a glance over his shoulder. "I always seem to be half-naked when we meet."

"I wouldn't be complaining if you weren't bleeding and bruised every time we meet."

"Laura Morse, are you hitting on me?"

"I might be." She sat down beside him, entirely too aware of how little distance there was between them. "But keeping you alive is a full-time job. So let me focus on that for a moment."

It might've been steamy. Even romantic, perhaps. But then Laura's eyes locked on the bruising covering his side and she remembered that there was a reason why he was half-naked on their sort-of-not-quite-first-date. "Right." She cleared her throat, trying to focus. "So, broken ribs and a concussion. What else?"

Clint glared straight ahead. As good of a patient as he always was. "My back feels funny", he grumbled at last.

"Funny?" Laura repeated, with as much patience as she could muster. She began to examine him slowly, somehow getting the feeling that he wouldn't appreciate fast movements when he was feeling vulnerable. "What happened to it?"

Clint smirked sheepishly. Still refusing to look towards her. "I sort of fell on it, through a window."

Laura froze, there. "You… What? How the hell do you sort of fall through a window?" The second he opened his mouth she decided that she didn't want to know. "Forget it." With a deep inhale she focused on her task at hand, and this time it was her turn to wince. There were several long, deep wounds that'd by some miracle stopped bleeding. Some of them still had glass inside. They'd have to be cleaned up before there'd be a nasty infection. There was also a lot more deep bruising. At least nothing felt broken. "How do you always get yourself banged up like this?"

"According to Coulson it's a gift", Clint replied, sounding as amused as anyone could with a back that looked like it'd gone through a shredder.

"Coulson?" Laura inquired, hoping that she was able to distract him from how she was hurting him while cleaning up the wounds.

"Phil." Clint shivered, just a little, but didn't make a sound of complaint. "My… boss. And friend. With how much he nags he could be mistaken for a mom."

Laura hummed with amusement. "Well. Considering the state of you, he doesn't do enough nagging."

"I don't think anyone could."

Laura shook her head. The damage was good to be patched up. "You're too stubborn for your own good."

Clint snickered. "You have no idea how many people have said that." He shrugged the best as he could. "But… Sometimes it works. Having a thick skull, I mean. Took me… what, nine months and five trips to your ER to finally get you to agree on a date. And here we are."

Despite numerous scars his skin was softer than expected and Laura's hand lingered, tingling oddly. "Here we are." And she was fighting very, very hard to come up with reasons why she shouldn't kiss him. "It was six trips to my ER, by the way. But who's counting?"

Clint finally looked at her. There was something incredibly soft in his eyes and on his lips a pleased grin that made her whole body feel like jell-o. (Not that she would've ever admitted it.) "Yeah. Who's counting?"

Laura smiled. Knowing all too well that it was probably nauseatingly dopey. Her hands were still on his bare skin and she was pressed so close that she could almost feel his heartbeat. Or maybe the rapid thudding was her own. "Okay, you smug bastard", she decided upon catching his eyelids drooping heavily. "You've had too much excitement for one day. Get some sleep. I guess I'll have to wake you up every few hours."

Clint blinked once. Twice. Thrice. It was the most heartwarming thing she'd ever seen. "You're… asking me to spend the night? On our first date? 'though I was late?"

"To be fair, you had a decent excuse. Besides, it'd be against my professional ethics to send you home alone in that condition." She helped him put on a shirt. "You're making me break all my dating rules, Barton."

No longer hesitant, he finally lay down. His eyes were barely open and she had hard time comprehending his quietly mumbled words. "'making me break all my rules, too."

Laura was incredibly happy that he fell asleep right after, because otherwise she would've ran out of excuses to not kiss him.

* * *

Laura fell asleep at some point, despite her best attempts. When her eyes fluttered open she saw tiny beacons of light. She blinked with confusion upon discovering that they were… candles. About a hundred of them, spreading through the entire bedroom.

She sat up slowly. Wondering if she was still dreaming. "What is this?" she sputtered.

Clint, who'd been lighting up a one more candle and who seemed a great deal more aware already, gave her a coy little grin. Clearly wondering if he'd done the right thing. "Our second date", he revealed hopefully, his cheeks gaining a rosy hue despite the persisting paleness. "And… an apology, that I was late for the first." He held out something with a hand that wasn't entirely steady. "I got you a cupcake, too."

How _the hell_ is a woman supposed to react to _that_?

Laura, for one, found only one proper way. She got up, not caring if the speed made her feel dizzy because her head was already spinning. The second she reached him she placed one hand on each side of his face and brought her lips to his. The kiss was long and electric, made her whole body pulsate in a way she'd never experienced before. His taste filled all of her, driving her insane.

They only broke apart due to lack of oxygen. Clint's flushed cheeks and dazed eyes made him appear even more alluring than he was before. His Adam's apple bobbed. "A kiss, huh?"

Laura shrugged. "Second date. It's appropriate." She licked her lips, still tasting him on them. "Now keep apologizing."

Obeying gladly, he brought his face closer to hers. Until they were only a breath apart, and she pressed a finger to his slightly parted, surprisingly and tantalizingly soft lips. "Barton?" she murmured hoarsely. "Never be late again."

Clint smirked. "You want me to stop being late? Then don't make apologizing feel so good."

* * *

End of number 1

* * *

A/N: (giggles) If that's the second date… Imagine the third!

Soooo… Whadda ya say? Would you like to read the five more tales (which would all be connected)? PLEASE, do let me know! Hearing from you makes my day.

In any case, THANK YOU SO MUCH for reading!

It's time to tune out. But who knows. Maybe I'll hear from ya again?

Take care!


	2. 2 of 5 – Happy Birthday

A/N: Part two is heeeeeeeere! (grins) BUT, before getting to it…

MY GOSH! You really like this idea, don't you? (BEAMS) THANK YOU, so, so much, for your reviews, listings and support! (HUUUGS) You… do realize that these will get a bit more… emotional, as the collection advances, don't you…? And that it's never a good thing when Clint's early…? Okay, now I'm just plain evil. (Whenever am I not…?)

SO, to avoid cyber-smacks… LET'S GO! I REALLY hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

Let's welcome Natasha aboard!

* * *

2 – Happy Birthday

* * *

When they'd been Strike Team Delta for five months Clint was still a bit of a mystery to Natasha. Since she was a little girl she'd been trained to read people well enough to be able to shred them emotionally as well as physically. But for some stupid reason she couldn't get a reading of him and it infuriated her.

This was a guy who chose to let her live instead of carrying out his mission to end her. Risking his career and life in the process, because there was no guarantee that she would return his courtesy. By now she'd lost track on how many times she'd demanded, in varying degrees of composure, what the hell he wanted as a reward. Because no one had ever done anything good for her without wanting something in return. Instead of actually answering anything further than 'Nothing' Clint just looked at her with incredibly sad eyes. Clearly seeing far more than she would've ever wanted anyone to see. It made her feel embarrassed, and guilty, and she was furious at him. _No one_ was supposed to get that close, she'd been taught better! Getting attached was stupid, careless and useless. And frankly, most of the people she'd met so far had supported those harsh lessons.

Then one Clint Barton just had to stumble into her life, literally, with his stupid ancient weapon and cause her to question everything that'd been told her.

She couldn't understand him. A man who could finish an enemy in a blink yet had a heart so huge it'd probably get _him_ killed one day. And she… wasn't comfortable with things she didn't understand. (The therapist Nick Fury had ordered her to meet regularly had told her to reduce the use of word 'hate' when describing her emotions.)

Natasha still didn't know what to make of having someone watching her back. In more ways than one, because she had a feeling that Clint was under strict orders to kill her at the slightest hint of potential betrayal. Why else would she have been stuck in a team with him when most S.H.I.E.L.D missions were handled solo? She accepted the mistrust and wouldn't have expected anything different. Which didn't mean that she had to like having someone breathing down her neck.

She also wasn't a fan of his tendency to get himself hurt all the time.

Natasha didn't know what, exactly, happened. They were shutting down an enemy base when Clint announced via ear-comm that he had company and cut off all communication. Fifteen minutes later, adrenaline and something far more foreign coursing through her veins, she found him supporting himself against a wall, barely able to stand. One of his arms was hanging awkwardly, announcing a dislocated shoulder at best, and the way he breathed spoke of broken ribs. There was a scowl on his face as he glared at the five ridiculously huge men on the floor.

Natasha frowned, not liking how pale and bruised his face already was. "You okay?" He looked at her but offered no answer, which made her eyebrows furrow even further. Quiet just wasn't something her new partner was. "Barton?" He signaled towards his jaw, and finally it clicked. "It's broken, isn't it?" She groaned and swore in Russian under her breath. "You've gotta be kidding me…!"

They succeeded in completing the mission, in a silence that felt wrong after how she'd grown used to his nearly constant sarcastic commentary. (A fact she'd never, ever reveal to him. It would've been foolish to encourage him.) They even made it to the car they'd left waiting. For the first time Clint didn't complain over her driving-manners when she took the wheel. As soon as he slumped down he moaned and lost consciousness.

At a hospital Natasha didn't care if the staff bought her story of them being married and him having fallen down stairs. One of the broken ribs had caused enough damage to require surgery, and obviously something had to be done to his jaw and shoulder. It took almost two full days before the archer was fully lucid. And of course the first thing he attempted to do was speak. Which was a horrible idea, if the shockingly open pain in his eyes was any indication.

"None of that yet, chatterbox", she announced, far more emotion than she would've liked in her tone. "That's what you get for letting those guys bash your face like a piñata." She sighed heavily and massaged the bridge of her nose with two fingers, wondering if it was the first of many headaches he'd cause her. "Just go to sleep. I can't yell at you yet when you look like crap."

Clint, however, didn't seem to have any intention to rest. With a frown on his face he looked around, searching. It wasn't that hard to guess what he wanted. Wondering if she was making a huge mistake, Natasha handed him the pen she… borrowed from a nurse to do some crossword puzzles and a newspaper. Clint nodded with gratitude, then wrote hurriedly. ' _What day is it?_ '

Natasha's eyebrow bounced up. Out of all the things he could've asked… "June 26th. Why?"

Clint's eyes widened, filling with something like shock. Then he was tearing off the tubes and wires connected to him. Of course he was.

"Hey, stop that, right now!" she snapped, perhaps a little more harshly than she'd intended. "What are you doing? You're going to hurt yourself!"

Clint wrote again. More fiercely this time. ' _I need to go, now._ '

Most people would've made the mistake of trying to argue with him. Or demanded an explanation. By now Natasha knew him well enough to not even try.

Natasha groaned. It was disturbing and alarming how easily he managed to drag her into these stupid ideas. "Fine. Jailbreak it is. But when Fury finds out, you're taking the blame."

The look that appeared to his eyes made it too easy to forget that she was still mad at him. For causing inconvenience. Because of course she wasn't actually worried.

* * *

Natasha wasn't entirely sure where she expected Clint to be headed. She arched an eyebrow while following him to an apartment building's elevator. Did he actually trust her enough to let her escort him home?

He trusted her _more_ than that, apparently.

She tensed up when he rang a doorbell, prepared to face some sort of an enemy. That restless, aggressive energy transformed to confusion when the door opened. A woman with long, at the moment disheveled brown hair stood there. It was clearly apparent that she hadn't slept properly in days. But the second the stranger's eyes found Clint's they lit up, filled with the kind of warmth and relief that was still foreign to Natasha. A degree of worry the redhead didn't quite understand yet tarnished it when she noticed Clint's injuries. "Barton, what the…?"

The sentence was cut short when Clint held up a sheet of paper. Because of the damage done to his face he wasn't in full control over his expression, but he reminded Natasha of a schoolboy expecting a scolding. ' _Happy Birthday, Laura._ '

The stranger, apparently Laura, shook her head, the tears filling her eyes taking the edge off her irritation. It was impossible to tell which one of the two looked more lovesick. "That was yesterday, idiot", the woman pointed out softly. A gentle hand caressed the bruising on Clint's face, and the man who wasn't comfortable with being touched practically melted against the contact. "He's supposed to be in a hospital, isn't he?" Laura sighed, her chest rising and falling as she seemed to breathe easily for the first time in ages.

"Yeah", Natasha admitted bluntly.

' _Traitor!_ ' Clint's half-hearted glare snapped at her.

"What's the damage?" Laura demanded, although it didn't look like she exactly wanted to know.

"Broken jaw. Three broken ribs. Dislocated shoulder. Severe concussion." Natasha got a feeling that this was a woman who didn't appreciate things being sugarcoated. "He also has a stab-wound that needs looking after. The moron lost a lot of blood."

Clint continued to glare at her.

Laura poked at the archer's chest with a single finger, magically avoiding an injured spot, her eyes narrowed. "Oh, you're not giving her the eye, mister." She sighed exasperatedly and shook her head. "I should've known that you meant this when you promised to be careful."

Clint shrugged the best as he could. There was a sheepish look in his eyes while he wrote something to a sheet of paper, then showed it to Laura. ' _Sorry I'm late. And sorry I didn't have the time to get you a gift._ '

Laura smiled, even though a lot of worry-lines remained on her face. "Right now I'm pretty happy with just the fact that you're there. But when you can actually explain yourself we'll have _words_."

Clint groaned, clearly beginning to understand just how much trouble he was in. Then moaned happily when Laura pressed a loving kiss to his forehead and folded him into an embrace neither seemed to ever wish to break. It took almost a full minute before the woman seemed to remember that they had company and looked towards her. "You're Natasha, right?" A single tear escaped while a shaky smile widened a fraction. "Thank you, for bringing him home."

Natasha didn't know what to say, because she'd never faced that kind of genuine affection she saw between those two, so she only nodded.

* * *

Natasha had to call Phil Coulson who, predictably, wasn't exactly impressed with the jailbreak. Convincing the man that while not exactly well, Clint was alive, took ages. Finishing the phone call, she groaned and rubbed her face roughly with one hand.

Sentiment was infuriating.

After composing herself for three seconds that she would've never, ever admitted to a living soul Natasha left the room. She would've walked right out if the sight in the living room hadn't halted her steps. She blinked twice.

On the couch Clint was finally sleeping soundly in Laura's arms, his serene expression a stark contrast against all the damage that'd been done to his face. Laura was awake, albeit barely, one hand holding a book while the other's fingers combed tenderly through the archer's badly ruffled hair. Both of them were content, relaxed and relieved.

Was that what love looked like?

Before Natasha had the chance to decide what she thought about the sight Laura turned her head, having noticed her. From the way the woman tightened her hold on Clint protectively it was apparent that she wasn't entirely sure of her yet. But the smile aimed her way was sincere. "Hey", Laura whispered, careful to avoid disturbing the archer's much needed rest. "Wanna stay for dinner? I'll order pizza as soon as he wakes up."

The offer was more tempting than Natasha wanted to confess, even to herself. But she shook her head. She just wasn't ready for… whatever it was she was offered. Friendship? "I have to go and deliver a briefing. And there's a ton of paperwork." She nodded towards Clint. "When he wakes up, tell him that this… domestic bliss thing suits him." Because it did. Even asleep, he looked happier and more relaxed than she'd ever seen him.

Laura grinned, and it looked ridiculously lot like Clint's trademark one. Natasha was almost at the door when the woman spoke once more. "Hey, Natasha?" She peered over her shoulder to meet a warm look. "I'm glad that this idiot isn't out in the field alone anymore." It was clearly honest, although there was also some hesitation. Maybe even a hint of jealousy. "You help keep him alive. For that you're welcome for pizza at any time."

Right there, with only Laura seeing it, Natasha did something she remembered doing less than a handful of times in her whole life. She smiled. Openly and genuinely, small as it was.

She had no idea what insanity made Clint share this side of his life with her, why he trusted her so much. Maybe it was the concussion. But she didn't mind. Not that she would've ever revealed as much.

* * *

Clint didn't know how long he slept. He woke up with a sore neck, and for a while he was too confused to figure out where he was. Until he recognized the arms wrapped around his aching frame, and the scent cocooning him. He sighed happily, blatantly ignoring how much he was hurting, and nuzzled his head against his companion's shoulder.

Laura giggled, and he didn't think he'd ever heard anything quite so beautiful. "Good morning to you, too." She kissed his nose, then his lips, and he would've given a lot to have been able to kiss back properly. "How's the pain?"

Clint shrugged dismissively. To hell with meds. _This_ was the best relief.

He was drifting back to sleep again when Laura spoke. "I've… been wondering how to tell you something." She swallowed. "You… weren't exactly right when you said that you didn't get me a birthday present." She went on when he peered at her with confusion, his sleepy head unable to comprehend where this was going. Why did she look so nervous? "See, Barton… You weren't the only one who was late. So, I made a test. And I had it confirmed yesterday." She smiled, anxiety making it wobble ever so slightly. "Clint, you're gonna be a dad."

Clint's eyes widened comically and his heart… It was beating faster than it ever had before. His blood rushed madly, nearly blinding him.

"Clint, you're starting to scare me…!"

Was he about to have a panic attack, scream or choke on the ridiculous sensation that was taking over all of him? He'd never felt anything this big in his entire life. He'd never been this terrified – or happy.

He couldn't voice any of that. Wasn't sure he would've been able to even without a broken jaw. So he did the one thing he could. He wrapped an arm around Laura and pulled her close, then buried his face into her hair. Breathed. And wondered if this was actually happening, maybe he was dreaming or hallucinating.

Was he becoming a dad? What if he'd be rubbish at it, because he didn't exactly have the best role-model to show how it was done? What if he'd be as bad as his own dad? And what if he wouldn't be? All he knew was that he wanted to stay in _this_ utterly perfect moment forever. Whether it was real or not.

"Clint, are you crying?"

He kissed Laura with as much passion as he could without upsetting the wires helping his jaw heal. One of his hands found its way to her still flat stomach. Almost able to feel the life within although it was far too early.

He'd try his best. For her, and for the little one he was yet to meet. But first he'd get better and stop being late.

* * *

End of number 2

* * *

A/N: Awww! Heh, we all know that Clint won't stop being late anytime soon… AND, that he'll be a great dad. (smiles) Those of you reading my 'Hawkeye Farm Tales' collection know what he was sort of late for Cooper's birth, too. (winces)

SO, folks…! Any good, at all? The word's yours, now! PLEASE, do leave a note!

Until next time, folks! I REALLY, REALLY hope that I'll see ya all there.

Take care!

* * *

Carry692: I'm INSANELY happy that you enjoyed it! And that you've enjoyed my other tales, too! (BEAMS) Heh, 'SOS' is a favorite-child of mine, too. (grins)

I have this silly obsession that Laura and Bobbi are estranged sisters who haven't spoken to each other since they were teens. And that Clint was married to Bobbi for a few months when he was younger than 20, before he met Laura. (giggles) Imagine the sisters and him meeting…! Or then Laura's maiden name in my tales is just a coincidence… (whistles innocently)

Colossal thank yous for the review!


	3. 3 of 5 - Merry Christmas

A/N: PHEW! I've been working on this for DAYS. But lately my time's been REALLY short, because I'm heading for a holiday-trip tomorrow. Good news for me, bad news for typing. (smirks sheepishly) (TO READERS OF 'SOS Hawkeye', I'm SO SORRY that I didn't manage an update this week! But I didn't want to rush it.)

THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for your AMAZING reviews, love and support! They mean SO MUCH. (HUGS)

Awkay, before I get all sappy… Let's go! I REALLY hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

* * *

3 – Merry Christmas

* * *

It was the most intense snowstorm New York had seen in decades. Which combined with the fact that it was Christmas Eve meant that the city was in a state of chaos. Considering the insanity outside, it was shocking how calm and quiet the Avengers Tower was for once.

No training. No scientific experiments. No hostile aliens. Those were the firm, uncompromising rules set by Pepper Potts.

It was so cozy and… _normal_ that it was almost disturbing. Steve and Thor tried baking with Pepper's instructions. It ended to a small fire and an eternal ban from the kitchen for both. Bruce was reading a book a small distance away from everyone else. It was quite possibly the first time the rest of them saw him at least remotely relaxed. Tony stole every single cookie he could get his hands on until he decided that Pepper's lips tasted better. The holiday cheer even got a hold of Natasha, who could be seen smiling a couple of times, just a little bit. She would've probably tortured and killed anyone who would've pointed out as much.

The only one who was nothing like their usual self _in a bad way_ was Clint.

The archer was atypically quiet. Wasn't even baited to one of his infamous banters with Tony. The others knew him well enough to understand that sometimes after harsh missions he needed some time to decompress, to process before he could feel like Clint Barton once again. But this seemed different. Eventually he left the room, announcing that he'd be back in a bit.

Natasha was already moving to follow the archer when Tony got to his feet instead. "You know what? I think this calls for some guy-time." He didn't know what, exactly, was wrong with the Hawk. But he'd be damned if he didn't try to fix it. It wasn't like he was worried or anything. He just liked it when the people around him were happy. And he'd had too much eggnog.

Natasha arched an eyebrow. "You do realize that he won't be… pleasant, don't you?" The suspicion in her eyes did nothing to discourage him.

Tony grinned, knowing full well that he was dangerously brave. "So what? I'll be pleasant for us both. And I'm armed with a cookie. He won't shoot an arrow at a guy who gives him a cookie."

"Cookie?" Thor, who'd been about to fall asleep on the couch, mumbled hopefully.

It wasn't that much a magic trick to find Clint. And maybe Tony cheated a little with using the help of JARVIS. He wasn't exactly thrilled when he was led to one of the Tower's highest floors. The second he stepped to a balcony he shivered and wrapped his coat more tightly around himself. "You're not planning on jumping or something as stupid, right?" He was aiming for a light tone and failed miserably. Snow and harsh wind slapped him across the face. "You choose risking pneumonia over hanging out with us. We're not that bad, are we?"

One corner of Clint's lips twitched upwards. Small victories. "Do you really want an honest answer, Tin Can?" The tone was enough to chase away the worst and, as Tony figured, ridiculous suspicions.

Tony rolled his eyes. "Hilarious, Grinch." He gave his friend a long look, his eyebrows furrowing a little. He didn't do… concern, of course. He was just being his usual nosy self. Because despite his… not exactly stellar social skills he could tell that something was _wrong_. "Never thought you to be the anti-party kind of a guy." It was the best 'What's wrong?' he could muster. He wondered immediately just what chances of getting an honest answer he had.

"I'm not", Clint argued. Still leaning against the railing, snowflakes getting stuck and melting on his lashes as the man looked down. "Just needed a breather, is all."

"Might've been a smarter move to stay indoors", Tony pointed out the obvious. Because he was already shivering from cold and his friend had been outside a lot longer. "Or to take a coat, at least." It wasn't until then he noticed how the archer sneaked constant glances towards his wrist-watch. Although he was high on sugar a few pieces slid together. "OH!" He grinned almost devilishly. "Barton, you had a hot Christmas date planned, didn't you?" It all made sense to him, now.

Clint shivered and it definitely wasn't from cold. The archer refused to look his way. "Something like that." The admission surprised them both. After a few seconds the agent glared at him. "If you tell anyone…"

Tony lifted both hands placatingly and rolled his eyes. "… I'll find an arrow from where I least expect it. I know, I know. That threat is sort of getting old, Legolas." The tone it was hissed with was impressive, though. Not that he would've ever admitted as much. Feeling a pang of sympathy, Tony punched his friend's shoulder gently with a fist. Because unlike some people automatically assumed he was capable of experiencing compassion. "I'm sorry about the date. It sucks. But maybe we're not such a bad substitute."

Clint's smile was tiny but sincere. "Nah, you're not." The man snorted. "The sad truth is… This is the best Christmas I've ever had."

Tony stared. And stared. "Sorry buddy, but… That's the most tragic thing I've heard in ages, and I just had to listen to fifteen full minutes of Thor singing."

"So that's what made you come out here", Clint mused with a smirk, sounding almost like himself again.

"Can you blame me?"

"Nope." Clint pushed himself further from the railing, and it chased away tension from Tony the billionaire hadn't even noticed. "A friendly tip? If Natasha ever starts singing, get earplugs. She's got a mean Falsetto when she's drunk. And she only sings when she's drunk."

Tony gawked. And snickered. "You've heard her singing and you actually lived to tell the tale?"

"I'm just that charming", Clint quipped with a wink.

* * *

Natasha glanced to the side and frowned upon discovering Tony returning alone. Her stomach knotted in a manner she wouldn't have admitted even to herself. "Did he run?" Because doing something that idiotic sounded like something Clint might do.

Tony, however, shook his head. "Nah. Just making a phone call."

Natasha nodded, then took a sip of eggnog. And immediately winced at the taste. This year, finally, Clint was supposed to get to spend Christmas with his family. For years Laura and the kids had been disappointed, but this year was supposed to be different. Until Mother Nature ganged up against Clint. Natasha didn't do sympathy. Such foolish nonsense was for children. But her best friend's misfortune ached for some reason. Someone getting that close to her should've alarmed and infuriated her. It didn't.

A real Christmas miracle, that one.

"He's okay, you know." Where had Tony found a yet another cookie? And when? "So you can stop frowning."

Natasha chose not to comment, instead drank a couple of more sips. Their… team, or whatever they were supposed to be, was still a new thing. She didn't trust them to have her back – or Clint's, especially when the man was still recovering from Loki's deeds. But maybe she would, one day. With Clint she'd, begrudgingly, admitted to herself that it was… nice to have people who had her back.

"So…" There was a nothing short of devilish smirk on Tony's lips. "Are you ready for some karaoke? A little bird sang that you have a lovely Falsetto."

Natasha couldn't help it. She smiled. And hid it with her mug.

She had a reputation to maintain, after all.

* * *

Clint braced himself before making the call. His heart still felt like it'd been torn in two when Lila's voice could be heard. " _Merry Christmas, daddy!_ "

"Merry Christmas, sweetheart", he murmured. And wanted to embrace her so badly that it hurt. "Now what are you still doing up?"

" _Waiting for Santa._ " Through all her excitement sadness shone through. " _Mommy said that it's snowing hard, so you can't come home yet._ "

Clint sighed heavily. "I'm so sorry. I really wanted to be there."

" _Does Santa know where you are?_ " Lila sounded genuinely worried. " _He won't know where to take your presents if he doesn't._ "

Clint's heart actually ached from how badly he wanted to be home. He swallowed thickly. "Don't worry. Santa is good at knowing those things." It was a miracle that his voice remained even. "Besides, I'll have all the presents I ever need when I get to come back to you."

Lila made a bizarre sound. He really hoped that it wasn't a sob. " _I love you, daddy._ "

"I love you, too." His voice broke just a little bit towards the end. "Goodnight, sweetheart."

" _G'night, daddy_ ", she mumbled around a yawn. It sounded like the phone was passed on to someone else. " _Mommy, it's daddy!_ " Despite his homesickness the little girl's excitement made Clint smile

A couple of seconds later Laura's voice came through the line. " _Hey, stranger._ " She didn't sound accusative. But still…

Clint couldn't help it. He whimpered once and closed his eyes. "Sorry I'm late. Again."

Laura's chuckle made him feel warm for the first time in days. " _Honey, you're incredible in a lot of ways. But you can't control the weather._ "

"In a lot of ways, huh?" Clint couldn't resist teasing.

" _Fishing for compliments is uncool, Barton_ ", Laura teased back. " _Coop really liked that toy-boy set you got him. Something tells me that I'll find those sticky arrows from every corner of the house for the next few weeks._ " Her voice was soft, full of affection. " _It made him smile, although he misses you like crazy._ "

Clint smiled as well, for the second time. Cooper's smiles were always something special. That kid was far too serious most of the time. "Tell him to not aim them at his sister."

Laura chuckled. " _I will. You could've told him yourself but he fell asleep half an hour ago. He really tried to wait for your call._ "

Clint groaned barely audibly and rubbed his face roughly with one hand. He was more than familiar with the realities of his job. Some days it just felt so unfair that… "I should be there."

" _Hey._ " Laura's voice was somehow firm and tender all at once. " _You're in one piece and safe. I miss you too, a lot. But you'll be here soon. Just a little longer._ "

"Just a little longer", he echoed, and tried to believe it.

" _That's right, you idiot. So enough with the sappy stuff._ " Honestly, it didn't sound like Laura was holding up a lot better than he was.

"You know… Today Tony figured that I was upset because of missing out on a hot date. I almost told him everything."

" _Well, Mr. Barton… You indeed missed out on something hot, for now._ " She lowered her voice, obviously to make sure that the kids wouldn't hear. " _I'm testing that set on red underwear you got me._ "

How about that. Certain parts of Clint… felt very, very excited about those news. "Any chance I might get a picture?"

Laura giggled. " _Absolutely not, you pervert. You'll get a lot more when you come back._ "

Clint scoffed. A warm, pleasant flutter spread everywhere in his body. "Tease."

" _I know._ " And she didn't sound sorry or embarrassed. " _Now close your eyes and get some sleep._ " How she knew that he was dead-tired was beyond him.

"Laura…"

" _I know, Birdie. Me too. Now sleep._ "

Laura didn't hang up, instead began to hum the familiar, soothing melody of 'Silent Night'. Slowly, slowly Clint's eyes slipped closed as he allowed himself to be lulled by her voice. Less than a minute later he was sleeping for the first time in two days, a serene look on his face.

In his dreams he was with his family, sleeping with them in one huge Barton-pile by a Christmas tree, a fireplace warming them up.

* * *

Tony didn't worry. He just didn't like it when people were unhappy. And Clint clearly wasn't… okay. So sue him for wanting to check.

About twenty minutes later he knocked on his friend's door. And received no response. Knowing full well that he was possibly risking his life with trespassing on an assassin's private area, he began to push the door open. "Feathers, you'd better be decent." He froze and shivered when a thought crossed his mind. "And you'd better not be doing any… funky stuff there." He waited for ten very long seconds before finally peering in.

Tony wasn't sure what he'd expected to find. Clint sleeping with an expression of utter contentment wasn't one of those things. He didn't think he'd ever seen someone look so happy and peaceful.

A smile found its way to the billionaire's lips. A rare, pure and honest one. "Sweet dreams, Feathers", he whispered. "And Merry Christmas."

* * *

End of number 3

* * *

A/N: Awww! So sad that Clint couldn't be home. But at least he wasn't lonely.

Sooooo… Any good, at all? Deletion worthy? PLEASE, do let me know!

Awkay, I REALLY need to go and get a little sleep. Until next time, folks! I REALLY hope that I'll see you all there.

Take care!


	4. 4 of 5 – A Long Way Home

A/N: I'm back from my first great adventure of the summer, which means that it's UPDATING TIME! (grins) Hooray?

First, though… Thank you SO MUCH for your reviews, listings and love! They seriously mean THE WORLD to me. (HUUUUGS)

Awkay, because stalling is RUDE (just ask Steve)… Let's go! I really hope that you'll enjoy the ride. Just… Brace yourselves, because we're slowly heading towards darker waters…

SONG FOR INSPIRATION: Clean Bandit, 'Symphony'

* * *

4 – A Long Way Home

* * *

When Lila was a very little girl she knew that her daddy's work took him away from home a lot. She hated it, but she also realized that his work was very important. When she was older she learned that his work was also dangerous. Very dangerous.

It was absolutely terrifying, especially for someone of her age, to know that whenever he walked through the door, there was a chance that he wouldn't come back.

Lila developed her own methods to cope with the stress. She had an imaginary friend and a hawk-plushie named Huggy she once got from her daddy she talked to. When she was sad she sneaked under her blanket and whispered to those two. Sometimes she even whispered to her daddy like he was actually there, and for some reason that helped the most. When she was scared or angry she lay under her bed with a huge package of coloring pens and drew pictures to the wood of her bed. Animals, smiling faces, whatever she felt might make her want to smile. Sometimes that helped, too.

She also became pretty good at keeping an eye on her mommy and her moods. When she noticed that her mommy was sad and worried she suggested baking cookies, because it always made her feel a little better. When her mommy got one of those looks on her face that threatened to mean bad news Lila hid. Every now and then she couldn't keep herself from bursting into tears, and she'd noticed that sometimes her mommy cried, too. That was the worst, because that was when she knew that things were really, really bad.

This time her daddy had been away for almost a month. Lila was old enough to count the days, now. Every day she wondered if this would be the day when he'd finally come back. But her mommy didn't start smiling, humming and baking muffins, so she knew that the agonizing wait would continue.

That evening the phone rang. _The look_ , the absolutely chilling one, appeared to her mommy's face when she checked who the caller was. It made Lila's tummy turn into a ball of ice. As soon as her mommy left the room Lila began to tremble uncontrollably. Cooper, who was sitting on the couch beside her, took her hand without saying a word. He was trembling, too. She didn't notice the tears running down her cheeks.

The hour which followed was one of the longest in their lives. Three times Lila opened her mouth but nothing came out. Instead she leaned her head against her against her brother's shoulder, squeezed his hand like it was her only lifeline and fought to stay brave.

She missed her daddy so much that it hurt.

When her mommy finally returned to the room and to the couch she was pale and her eyes were red. She cleared her throat, not looking at either one of them, then spoke quietly. "So, daddy… He's going to be away a little bit longer, okay? That was why auntie Tasha called. Because she knows that we worry."

"When is he coming home?" Cooper demanded, sharply, desperately.

Their mommy pulled them both to a hug. Lila leaned to it greedily and for once even Cooper didn't resist, didn't claim that he was too big for such. "I don't know, sweetie", their mommy admitted, sounding as miserable as the kids felt. "But I really hope that it'll be soon."

So did Lila, from the bottom of her aching heart.

* * *

They spent that night on the couch, huddled together, and none of them slept. They all kept an anxious eye on the phone on the table. When morning came without it ringing again they were finally able to relax, just a little bit.

* * *

The next few weeks were tense and oddly quiet as they all waited. Lila spent a lot of time hiding under her blanket. Three times Cooper slipped there with her, and they waited for whatever was to come together.

It was either very late or incredibly early when Lila was startled awake. It took her a long moment to figure out what roused her. Until she heard the muffled noise from downstairs. Curiosity overcame fear and she crawled out of the bed, then began to tiptoe closer.

"… careful …" That was her mommy's voice. "… don't jostle …" She couldn't hear the rest.

"… idiot's already popped his stitches twice …" That was auntie Tasha. She sounded angry. Was she mad at daddy? Why?

Lila peered downstairs just in time to see three shadowy figures disappear to the direction of her parents' bedroom. She would've wanted to sneak closer to see but for some reason her legs refused to move. A frown appeared to her face.

Was her daddy finally back? Why did it have to be such a secret? Was he okay?

Lila wanted to find out, desperately. But apparently she just wasn't brave enough. So instead she rushed back to her room, rubbing her stinging eyes roughly with one hand. She couldn't get sleep. Which was why she heard the muffled, animalistic whimper that seemed to echo through the whole house.

It was the most horrible sound Lila had ever heard.

* * *

The following day they had pancakes for breakfast. Lila felt her eyes light up when she discovered that they still had a special guest. "Auntie Tasha! You stayed!"

Her mommy had a small smile on her face, even though she seemed tired and her eyes were red. There was also something else about the look on her face that made the little girl's stomach bubble uncomfortably. Sorrow? Grief? "Lila Barton, you cheeky little thing. Were you awake last night?"

Lila felt sheepish. But above all worry and ache pushed through. "Daddy came home. Why didn't you wake us up?"

Her mommy looked away with an expression she was too young to read properly. "He… wasn't feeling well, sweetie. He needed some rest. But as soon as he feels up to it we'll have a really big ice-cream party, okay?"

Lila swallowed thickly. She pushed the words out through the lump in her throat. "We'll have sprinkles, won't we?"

"Of course, silly." Cooper seemed as scared as she was, but somehow managed to sound startlingly lot like their daddy. "Maybe we'll even get some chocolate sauce."

Lila almost smiled. Almost. "It's daddy's favorite."

"Yeah."

The breakfast continued in a strange, thoughtful silence. Lila did her best to think as little as possible, to quiet her thoughts and just enjoy the pancakes. Her daddy was home, he just needed a little rest. Everything would be okay.

Still she couldn't make herself go anywhere near her parents' bedroom, no matter how much she wanted to see her daddy.

* * *

The following morning Lila woke up from a light, uneasy sleep to the sound of steps entering her room. She was fully under her blanket but recognized the presence. She frowned. "Coop?"

Cooper approached, eventually sat to the edge of her bed. He swallowed loudly. "I… I went to see dad."

It was obvious that he didn't want to tell more. And Lila didn't dare to ask more, even though the questions burned her tongue so badly that she swallowed convulsively. Instead she moved the blanket enough to let her brother slip in. Cooper did, and there they lay in a silence, both deep in thought. Lila pretended that she didn't notice the fast-drying tears on her brother's face. They both pretended that they didn't hear the muffled, agonized scream coming from the direction of their parents' bedroom.

This time they'd hide together, just for a little while.

* * *

That night Lila had a nightmare she hadn't had in a very long time. She was trying to make her way through a thick, foggy forest. Wherever she was attempting to go, it was nearly impossible when she could see barely a step's worth ahead of her. But somehow, impossibly, she was still able to see her daddy, who walked a small distance away.

Until the fog grew even thicker and swallowed him.

Lila froze, fear clawing at her. "Daddy?" There was no response, not even a sound in the whole chilling forest. A searing sensation took over her eyes while her heart hammered desperately somewhere close to her throat. "Daddy?" Still nothing. She couldn't see a trace of him anymore. "DADDY!"

"Lila, shh… Shh…" A pair of safe, familiar arms were wrapped around her all of a sudden, pulling her out of the nightmare. She felt her daddy's heartbeat, strong and steady, and leaned her head against it. He gave her a few moments to calm down before he went on. "It was just a dream, sweetheart. It's okay. Everything's okay."

Lila clung to his shirt tightly with her eyes still closed, starting to relax slowly but steadily. He was there, real and alive. "You'll be okay. Right, daddy?"

"Of course I will be. How could I not be when I'm finally home?" He kissed her hair. "I'm so sorry I was late. The road back was longer than I thought."

Lila wanted to tell him that it was okay, that he didn't have to be sorry. But she wasn't quite ready for that yet when all the worry and longing were still so fresh and raw. She also wanted to make him promise that he'd never, ever be late like this again. But despite her age she knew that it wasn't something he had any actual control over. So instead she tightened her hold on him still and sighed, his familiar presence chasing away the last remains of the nightmare. "I feel sleepy", she admitted.

"Then get some sleep." A gentle hand began stroking her hair. "I'll be right here to make sure that all bad dreams and boogeymen stay away."

She knew he would be. And she trusted him to keep his promise, with all her heart. Just before falling asleep she murmured once more. "Love you, daddy."

"Love you, too."

"To the moon and back?"

"To the moon and back."

* * *

Once Lila drifted off to sleep Clint lifted his gaze and took some deep breaths to calm himself.

He'd spent two weeks captured and tortured by the enemy. They smashed several bones, almost killed him more times than he wanted to count in ways that'd haunt him for the rest of his life. He sustained two gunshot wounds, and he could tell that getting out of the bed had torn the stitches of the one by his stomach-area. He also had third-degrees burns in three places of his body. By the time he was found he was barely alive. But hearing his little girl calling out to him with such terror and despair… It hurt more than any of those injuries. It was the most horrible sound he'd ever heard.

There, in the middle of that hell, only the thought of his wife and kids kept Clint fighting through the worst days. He had no idea what he'd ever done to deserve his family, especially when he kept putting them through agony like this. He probably didn't deserve them at all. But he thanked whatever higher power there might be listening that he had them, that he'd made it back to them and that they took him back.

He didn't deserve them, so he cherished every stolen second he had with them before the error would be realized and they'd be snatched away.

Blatantly ignoring the blinding, searing agony of his tormented wounds Clint pulled his sleeping daughter closer and closed his eyes. Then began to hum softly to a melody he remembered faintly hearing when he was just a child. And he swore to himself solemnly that he'd do whatever he could to never be late like this again.

* * *

Clint didn't have any idea of the two pairs of eyes watching him and Lila. Laura had some moisture in her eyes and a smile on her lips. Even Natasha was smiling, just a little bit, although the former assassin would've never admitted it to a living soul.

Clint still had a very long and rocky road to recovery, but something told them that from now on it might be a little smoother.

"We should drag him back to his own bed", Natasha pointed out, just quietly enough for only Laura to hear her. There was a shockingly open degree of concern in her narrowed eyes. "That idiot looks ready to pass out any second now."

Laura smiled wider, unable to look away from her husband and daughter for long. "Let's give them a few more moments. It's not like I could even yell at him right now, without waking up Lila."

Laura didn't know how many times Clint had been late. She'd never, ever get used to the waiting, to not knowing if this was the time when he wouldn't be coming back home again. But she got him back this time. He was there, alive and recovering. For now that was enough to make her stop feeling like the ground had been slipping away from under her feet.

For now she'd focus on trying to decide whether she'd tie him to bed to ensure that he wouldn't pop a yet another set of stitches after she'd fixed these. There was also a huge ice-cream party to plan. With sprinkles and chocolate sauce.

* * *

End of number 4

* * *

A/N: GOSH! Two weeks of torture. Imagine that! (shudders) Poor Clint! THANK GOSH he made it back to his family.

Sooooo… Any good, at all? PLEASE, do let me know! I LOVE hearing from you.

Until next time, folks! I REALLY hope that you'll all be there.

Take care!


	5. 5 of 5 – Happy Anniversary

A/N: I'm so sorry that it took me a while to update! I've been traveling, which has kept me busy in the BEST way. (grins)

THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for all your AMAZING reviews, listings and love! You can't even imagine how much those mean to me. (HUGS)

Awkay, because I've already kept you waiting too long… Let's go! I REALLY hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

* * *

5 – Happy Anniversary

* * *

Laura had just managed to tuck in the kids when her phone started to ring. A special smile, the one reserved for one occasion alone, appeared to her lips when she checked the caller ID. ' _Jeremy_ '. "Hey. Are you on your way home?" Hope made an army of butterflies flutter to life in the pit of her stomach. If she wanted to, she could've counted even how many minutes had passed by from the last time he was home. She didn't want to.

" _Sorry, honey, not yet._ " Clint sounded hoarse and apologetic. And sad. " _I'm so sorry. I was supposed to be there on time._ "

Laura bit back a heavy sigh and a sob that wanted desperately to erupt. She was all too used to her husband's line of work. Still, sometimes it felt so unfair that she wanted to… "I miss you", she blurted out before she could stop herself. Because some days it was easier to carry the burden than others.

She didn't care about a stupid anniversary. Much. She didn't want flowers, candies or ridiculously expensive dinners. She just wanted Clint home, safe and whole.

There was a sound she couldn't quite identify. " _I miss you, too._ " The admission was a surprise. Even after all the years they'd been together Clint still mostly relied on actions speaking louder than words. She could easily count with her fingers how many times she'd heard him sound _this_ vulnerable. " _I hate this place. And I need coffee._ "

Laura smiled. Then frowned. "Are you okay?" He was able to make a phone-call, at least. But something still felt wrong.

" _Yeah. Just… One of those days._ " One of those days when he regretted his chosen career. When the price he had to pay to make the world a safer place for their kids felt like too much. When a yet another missed milestone and special day made him eager to punch someone. When he just wanted a nap and a hug, in whichever order.

Laura knew, because there were days when she felt the exact same way. Not that she would've ever told Clint as much. He carried more than enough guilt on his shoulders already. "Remember that you'll be home for Coop's birthday", she reminded him, her voice soft and gentle as she filled her mind with happy thoughts.

" _That kid is expecting a massive cake._ "

"You're not touching it, Barton. The last time you tried cooking you caused a small fire and gave the whole family a food poisoning." She gave him a strong, eternal ban to the stove and a kiss for trying.

Clint chuckled hoarsely. " _I promise._ " He took a deep breath. It shuddered slightly, or maybe it was a trick of her imagination. " _I've gotta go. I…_ "

"I know. Me too, sap." Laura didn't want to hear declarations of love in the middle of a mission. She closed her eyes, and for a few precious moments she could've sworn that he was there with her. "Happy anniversary, honey. See you soon."

" _Yeah._ " He swallowed thickly. " _See you soon._ " Almost right after the phone call disconnected.

Usually a call from Clint would've made her feel good and relieved. And it did feel amazing to hear his voice. But there was also something else. A cold she couldn't explain. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself, closed the window firmly and continued to shiver long after she went to bed.

Laura couldn't sleep that night.

* * *

Clint kept his eyes closed for a long moment after the call ended. Visualized himself to home. Laura's arms around him, her warm body pressed against his. One of the kids snuffling in sleep, having sneaked into their bed. It was a lovely, precious mental image, such he didn't want to ever let go.

But in the end he opened his eyes, slowly, to face the reality.

There was a puddle of blood under him. He did his best to staunch the bleeding with one hand but his fingers were getting slick and clumsy. He tried to get up, attempted to move. There was barely a twitch anymore. When his gaze fell listlessly to the side he encountered a timer ticking down steadily. Six minutes left, and counting.

It was almost poetic that he forgot his phone to his pocket today, of all days. That after everything that'd happened during the past few hours it was cracked but functional. That he remained functional long enough to…

"Clint?" He didn't realize that he'd closed his eyes again until he felt a not exactly gentle touch, and heard the distant voice. "Clint, you have to stay awake!"

Right, right… He was in a Hydra-base. And while the team had taken down pretty much all the enemies there was still… His eyes opened halfway to reveal a blurry face. "… found the bomb", he rasped. It was designed to destroy a village that'd put up too much resistance to the organization's liking. Now, at least, it'd never get the chance to do that. Instead it'd bring what was left of the building to ruins. Same with him. Almost poetic, that, too.

"Yeah, you did." Bruce sounded tense and hoarse. Clint wished that he could've seen his friend's face better. "And now we've gotta get you out of here."

All of a sudden panic flared through Clint. Not for himself. He knew his injuries, no matter how out of it he was at the moment, and had a fairly bleak image of the time he had left. But the others… He managed to lift his hand from the wound. As soon it hit something solid he pushed, feebly but stubbornly. "… go …" There was a bomb about to go off in about four minutes. What the hell was Bruce still doing there, wasting time on him? And the others, they had to be warned…!

He still couldn't see properly. But it looked like Bruce shook his head. "Everyone's safe, okay? Rogers and Thor are making sure that the villagers stay clear of the blast radius. Natasha's… interrogating. And we'll be out of here soon. Just focus, and breathe."

Clint wondered, as much as he could in his current condition, how many times Bruce had told himself just that. He tried to get up again, because he knew that the scientist wouldn't risk moving him or walk away if he didn't. There was a violent, blinding jolt of agony that froze him effectively. It took longer than it should've to realize that the nauseating, wheezing sound was his breathing.

The beeping of the bomb's countdown echoed in his head.

That sound gave him a few more valuable seconds of clarity. With every little bit there was left of his strength he lighted his hand a one more time and _shoved_. "… go! …" Couldn't Bruce understand? Bruce had to, needed to…!

"Clint." Bruce's voice came from impossibly far away, like a whisper or a hallucination. Maybe he _was_ only imagining it. "Whoever you just called… You need to go back home to her." A hand pressed hard, making black spots dance in his line of vision, and he writhed uselessly against the assault. "Just stay still and keep breathing."

That sounded simple enough. Stay still. Breathe. Go home. Stay still. Breathe. Go home. Stay still…

He gasped painfully, suddenly remembering the phone-call. When he gulped he tasted blood and shivered. "Laura…"

"Laura?" Bruce sounded confused for a second. "She's that woman you called, right?"

Clint didn't have the strength for a nod. When the pain got too much he balled his fists so tightly that nails dug into skin. "Tell her…"

/ _"See you soon."_ /

"… sorry …" It felt strange. To just float away.

" _… Clint …!_ "

Clint trembled. Or spasmed, he couldn't tell anymore. There was a hellish assault of agony. Then… Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

The last thing he heard was the bomb ticking down. The last thing he saw was Laura's smiling face. And the last thing he thought was an apology. He wasn't aware of the single tear traveling down his cheek.

* * *

Bruce had seen far more people than he cared to count die. Let go, give up, lose the fight, slip away. He knew what it looked like. Seeing it happen to someone he'd, against his will, ended up letting close enough to call him a friend…

 _NO._

Clint wasn't going to die. Bruce would make sure of that. They'd both just have to hang on. He couldn't afford to lose control, no matter how loudly the Other Guy was roaring and raging inside him. So he pushed, and pushed, and pushed, with all his might, against both the river of blood trying to leave Clint and the monster inside him. Even though his hands were slippery from red and the constantly growing crimson pool on the floor had soaked his trousers.

That horrific sound which he dimly recognized as Clint's breathing… It was gone. Bruce didn't want to think about what it meant.

There was noise, and for a while Bruce thought that the bomb had gone off. He tensed up, far too close to losing control. He didn't notice the hazardous growl that slipped through his lips, or how his body shifted automatically to shield his friend.

"Easy, easy!" Tony didn't sound like himself. Metal clashed like a thunderstorm as the Iron Man rushed towards them.

"Don't…" Bruce swallowed convulsively, like that was enough to keep Big Green at bay. "Don't surprise me."

"Sorry." It was easy to see how hard the billionaire fought to keep himself together. Still there was fear and shock in the man's eyes as they took in the blood and… "Is he…?" Tony couldn't bring himself to voice the rest.

Bruce shook his head. Once, twice. He didn't know. Didn't want to find out. Couldn't bear to let go of the fool's hope.

His gaze shifted towards the bomb. Funny how he'd almost succeeded in forgetting about it. Less than a minute and a half left. "We have to leave. But… We can't move him."

"Bruce, we have to!" Were there tears in Tony's voice? "We can't… We can't just leave him here!" _Dead or alive._

Bruce nodded, too out of breath for words. And what was there to say, really? Bruce couldn't bring himself to look when Tony picked Clint up gently, gently, and a chilling amount of blood gushed out instantly. Blood the archer absolutely couldn't lose.

"Okay. Okay." Tony's breathing pattern was such Bruce recognized easily. He used similar when attempting to keep his… companion under control. "Let's go."

Bruce was more than ready to do just that. Later he had no memories of the journey away from the scene. He couldn't even remember hearing the eventual explosion although he must've. All he could really focus on was the feel of Clint's blood drying on his hands. It made him feel sick to his stomach.

While Hulk roared from rage and frustration inside him Bruce wished, from the bottom of his racing heart, that he would've been able to do the same.

* * *

Dr. Nia Damascus was preparing herself for a very long nightshift. Nothing could've braced her for the sight that met her when she rushed to the ER's main hallway. Her blue eyes widened and she froze.

The first person he saw was a disheveled looking man with brown hair and pained eyes. The man had wrapped a blanket the hospital borrowed tightly around himself but was still trembling. Dust covered him but he seemed largely unharmed. As did a man she recognized with disbelief as the legendary Iron Man, who seemed incredibly young and scared with the face-part of his suit not in place. Both men were stained by blood, which most likely came from the horrifyingly still form lay in the suit covered Avenger's arms. He was sickeningly pale, and it was impossible to tell if he was breathing anymore. There was so much blood coating him that there was no way for her to see where the wound was.

"Please…" It was unnatural to hear that voice from a grown man. Let alone from the Iron Man. "Help."

Nia didn't need to be told twice. She gulped and bellowed. " _I need a gurney, now!_ "

* * *

While Clint fought for his life Bruce had a hold of the man's phone. Along with the number of the mysterious 'Laura'. There were five times when he considered calling her.

Once after Clint was first whisked away by the medical professionals, all of them wearing grim expressions that promised nothing good.

For the second time when they were told that it was highly unlikely that their friend would make it through the upcoming twenty-four hours.

For the third time when he sneaked into his friend's hospital room and saw just how much equipment it took to keep the man alive.

For the fourth time when, for two horrifying minutes, Clint's heart stopped beating as the struggle got too much on the archer's system.

For the fifth time when Clint finally opened his eyes again, only for a few seconds before falling asleep again but still, and it began to look like everything would be alright.

Natasha was in the room with him at the time. She gave him just one look before her eyes sharpened, the protectiveness of a fierce friend taking over. "You know."

Bruce nodded slowly. He didn't have to ask for a clarification. "Yeah. He, ah… called her, before…" Even after five full days he didn't feel comfortable with voicing the rest. The memories were too vivid.

Natasha seemed… Was it surprised? It was impossible to tell what, exactly, she was thinking and feeling.

Bruce looked at their sleeping friend. Clint still appeared very unwell but at least the man was alive and recovering. He would've wanted to voice as much. He was even tempted to ask Natasha how long she'd _known_. And who Laura was. But he'd never been one fond of words, and neither was Natasha. Especially when they were both tense, worried and struggling to hold themselves together. So they allowed a companionable, thoughtful silence to fall as they kept watch and also recovered.

* * *

Clint had no idea how long he was out. If he was perfectly honest, he hadn't expected to wake up ever again. So when his eyes first fluttered open he groaned loudly and squeezed them closed again, the light and all the white a torturous attack.

"Clint?" The voice was mercifully soft and quiet. "Are you awake?"

"Not sure", he mumbled. He tried to rub his face with one hand but the limb was so feeble that he ended up swatting himself instead. How embarrassing. "… didn't die, huh?" Because he had to make sure.

"No, you didn't." The relief in Bruce's voice was palpable. "But it came way too close."

Clint opened his eyes. It wasn't painful this time but still required far too much effort. His stomach knotted from guilt when he saw how pale and exhausted the other was. "Sorry." His eyebrows furrowed. "The others?"

"They're okay." There was no lie in Bruce's voice. "Just getting something to eat."

Clint wanted to ask more but he was already close to dozing off. Until his heart jumped when something came to his mind. "Laura…" He had to… Needed to…

"I think Tasha's been keeping her updated." Bruce showed him a very familiar phone. Blood-stains made the item appear disgusting but no less precious. "But I think she wants to hear your voice."

Clint took the phone eagerly, no matter how weak he was. A thought then occurred to him and he swallowed, wincing at how sore and dry his throat was. "Banner, I, eh…"

"I won't tell the others", Bruce promised, as though reading his mind. "Laura is a part of your life you want to keep far away from all this chaos. I get that."

It wasn't just that. But Clint didn't have the energy or words for further explanations. Instead he nodded the best as he could. "Thanks." For keeping his secret. For keeping him alive. Everything.

"No problem." Suddenly appearing shy and self-conscious, Bruce shifted, then bounced restlessly to his feet. "I'll… go and get some coffee. And I'll let the others know that you're awake. They've been driving the hospital staff insane."

As soon as Bruce had left Clint focused hungrily on the phone. Pressing the buttons was ridiculously difficult but with his characteristic stubbornness he managed. Laura picked up in a matter of seconds. " _Hey._ "

Clint melted to an instant smile. He didn't pause to wonder what the stinging sensation in his eyes was all about. "Hey", he rasped and hated his voice. He swallowed, and it still hurt like hell. "Guess what? I'll be home for Cooper's birthday." Because he would be, no matter what. No more being late.

" _I know._ " And then, like a switch had been flicked, Laura burst into tears. Such that tore his heart to pieces. " _Goddamnit, Barton, I… I thought you… I thought I'd never get to tell you…_ " Words failed her.

Clint's heart thudded. Somehow he was already guessing but… "Tell me what?"

Laura was still sobbing a little but calming down. The almost hysterical noise that bubbled from her sounded like a chuckle. " _You're gonna be a dad again._ "

* * *

Bruce peered soundlessly into the room, not wanting to intrude or interrupt something private. In a few seconds he recognized the tears on his friend's face as those of joy. With a beyond rare, small but genuine smile on his face Bruce retreated. And for once the Big Guy was quiet.

* * *

End of number 5

* * *

A/N: And that's how Clint found out about baby-Nate. Awww! THANK GOSH Clint made it through. If THAT was his last conversation ever with Laura… (shudders)

THIS WAS INSPIRED BY the scene of the team meeting Clint's family. There was a 'blink and you'll miss it' moment when Bruce and Natasha looked at each other. I couldn't help but imagine that what if Bruce had a clue of Clint's family in beforehand. (grins)

Sooo… Any good, at all? PLEASE, let me know! I'd LOVE to hear from you.

A STRONG WORD OF WARNING. The next and final addition to this tale/collection will be VERY, VERY sad. So… Brace yourselves, yeah? I'm sorry. (winces)

Awkay, because I'm determined to update more today, it's time to go. Until next time! I really hope that I'll see ya all there!

Take care!


	6. Plus 1 – Gone Too Soon

A/N: Okay, people. This is what I've been warning you about. You need to be VERY brave, because this is going to hurt. (winces) It took me AGES to complete this, and about four different drafts. But here we are, for better or worse…

FIRST, though… THANK YOU, so much, for all your reviews, love and support! They mean more to me than I can say. (HUGS)

Okay. Are you ready? Let's go! I REALLY hope that you'll enjoy the ride. (I'm sorry…!)

WARNING: CHARACTER DEATH

* * *

+1 – Gone Too Soon

* * *

For once in his life Clint was ahead of schedule, which would probably surprise Laura more than his actual arrival. His last mission as an Avenger was officially over. The drama which followed the Civil War had settled from gaping emotional wounds to occasional dull throbbing. Things would never be exactly the same again but he was leaving behind a well-functioning team, each member of which was able to trust one another. It was time to let go and go home.

Clint snorted at his own trail of thought and added volume to the car's radio. He was being such a drama-queen. It wasn't like he was saying goodbye. He'd already promised that he'd visit New York in a couple of weeks with the kids. Tony mumbled something about an ice-cream fiesta. Clint wondered if his friend knew what he was getting himself into.

He came to one of the last intersections before home. If the turned right, he'd go and pick up some pizza. It'd definitely earn him a hero's reception. If he turned left, he'd go straight to the Farm and he'd be there in less than fifteen minutes. In the end the decision was easy to make. He'd already been gone too long, the bruises he'd obtained and even his bones hurt. He just wanted to go home.

He added speed the second the traffic light turned green and his car headed left. Afterwards everything seemed to happen unnaturally quickly. None of it felt real.

Bright lights blinded him when a vehicle dashed towards his from behind a red light. There was the sound of a car-horn. Then metal clashed against metal deafeningly, like an explosion. Then… Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

* * *

'American Pie' continued to play in the almost entirely trashed vehicle. Rain beat the already battered structure, the sound ominous and chilling. Somehow the windshield wipers were still doing their job although the glass they were supposed to keep clear had shattered. Otherwise it was deadly silent.

Kia Timmons, age sixteen, had been drinking for the first time in her life. After having a bitter, stupid fight with her boyfriend she thought that driving back home was a good idea. Until it really, really wasn't.

She didn't notice the red light. Not until she was on a collision course with another car. Alcohol and shock slowed down her reflexes. There was nothing she could do. And then it was already too late.

Her vehicle spun twice on the wet pavement, like some kind of an amusement park's ride. She closed her eyes and screamed, from the bottom of her heart and soul.

Then everything was still and silent.

Kia opened her eyes, slowly. The headlights of her car were pointed directly towards what little was left of the other vehicle. And although she didn't want to she saw the other driver. Blood was running from his ears, nose and mouth, and there was a sickening gash on his head. Or was the whole back of his skull gone? As far as she could tell the man wasn't breathing.

She just killed someone. The realization washed through her like a bucket of icy water. Kia did the only thing she could think of.

She started the car, beginning to cry when the engine roared to life, and drove away.

* * *

When Clint regained consciousness it was horribly dark. For a moment he panicked, fearing that he'd lost his sight, until some of the shapes around him began to make sense. He blinked slowly, barely managing to wrench his eyes open each time.

His heart hurt hellishly and his thoughts tangled, muddled and in a state of chaos. Why… was he upside down? In a car? Cars weren't supposed to be upside down.

 _Oh…!_

There was a crash, wasn't there? Was anyone else injured? Had anyone been able to call for help?

Clint fumbled, attempting to free himself from the seatbelt still trapping him, but his hands weren't working properly. There didn't seem to be will in his fingers. He groaned and writhed the best as he could. Only to have a violent assault of pain nearly push him back to darkness. He gasped although it hurt even more than moving, the taste of blood filling his mouth.

Something wasn't right…

Slowly, barely conscious and in hardly any control over his body, Clint turned his head to see. And instantly wished he hadn't. A large piece of the windshield was sticking from his abdomen, a steady stream of blood trickling from one edge of the wound it caused. His breath wheezed and crackled, each inhale a new world of pain.

Clint knew exactly what was happening, then. With such certainty that made him feel colder than the rainwater pouring into the shattered vehicle. He was dying.

A desperate, keening noise crawled through his throat, bringing speckles of blood to his lips that were turning blue. His ears were ringing so badly that he couldn't hear it. His eyes blurred and for a moment he thought that it was already over, until the car came back into focus. His attention became fixed on his phone, which had tumbled to the-ceiling-that-was-now-a-floor in the middle of the chaos.

He wasn't able to hear, but maybe, just maybe, if he reached it…

Stubborn to the last, Clint outstretched one nearly limp arm, all five fingers reaching out with every ounce of determination he had. He managed to brush the item but that was where his reach ended. He gave up with a loud, gurgling gasp when it felt like his chest and stomach had been torn in two, his sight growing blurry once more. Some more blood traveled through his throat into his mouth, forcing him to spit before he would've choked on it. More of it was escaping through his nose. He felt horribly cold, the rainy evening sneaking all the way to his broken bones.

He was dying, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Clint wasn't afraid of dying. No one who agreed to work for S.H.I.E.L.D could be. But the thought of _going_ like this… Freezing and bleeding, all alone…

But he wasn't entirely alone, now was he?

Clint closed his eyes, no longer registering that his body was giving up. No longer in pain. He was trapped but his mind wasn't. It traveled, carried him away from the wreckage.

If really focused he could feel the whole team there. Their presences strong, solid and steady. He could've sworn that he heard Tony's voice babbling, full of life and energy. There was a hand holding his, and he recognized Wanda's touch easily. It soothed his panicking mind, while in reality his heartbeat continued to slow down. They kept watch, all of them, as he was taking his final journey.

And finally Laura's comfortingly familiar scent filled his nose instead of the blood. The lips brushing against his forehead were light but warm. ' _Shh, honey_ ', she whispered. ' _It was just a nightmare. Go back to sleep._ '

Clint slept. And dreamt. Of home. Of walking in, and finding his arms full of his kids. Of love, joy and affection.

And Laura. How they first met, him sporting a bullet wound in his ass. Of their first date, how beautiful she looked when stepping out of the restaurant to find him waiting. Of holding his hand on her abdomen when he found out that she was pregnant for the first time. Of kissing her. Of making love to her. Of them dancing to the familiar melody of 'As Time Goes By', the rest of the world somewhere far away, from where it couldn't touch them.

There, all alone on the side of a small road, Clint Francis Barton breathed out his last word. A tiny smile on his bloodied lips and a serene look on his deathly pale face. "Laura…"

* * *

Two hours later Laura's phone rang. She smiled upon noticing that the caller was Natasha. "Hey. Are you back from the mission already?"

" _I… was just trying to let Clint know that he forgot something. He's not answering his phone._ " Natasha sounded worried, which alone made Laura's blood run cold. " _Are you saying that he's not home yet?_ "

* * *

It wasn't until three more hours later the Avengers all got a message from Nick Fury. Just the name of a hospital along with the word ' _now_ '. It wasn't often they would've moved so quickly.

It wasn't a hospital ward they were instructed to. Not even the ICU. Instead a sympathetic looking man dressed in blue led them to the morgue. Less than twenty seconds after their arrival Fury emerged through one of the massive doors at the right side of the hallway. He looked towards them, his expression telling far more than they wanted to know. And gave a stiff, curt nod that shattered whatever fool's hopes they'd had.

That very moment, the bleak confirmation, was one of those which slashed a line in their lives to 'before' and 'after'.

The coroner, a man in his late fifties with the saddest gray eyes they'd ever seen and pallor which made him resemble his charges, opened his mouth to object when they began to move towards the room. Natasha's glare silenced him effectively, her pain and sorrow transforming to rage that made her look like a wounded wild beast. "He already had to die alone", she hissed. The others were almost sure that they heard her voice crack although her expression didn't weaver. "I won't let him be alone any longer."

The coroner shifted with discomfort. "That room… It's not exactly…"

"We're not leaving him here." Steve lifted his chin, daring anyone to question him. For a few fleeting seconds moisture was visible in the soldier's eyes. "We're taking him home."

The coroner frowned. Obviously not used to dealing with the living. "There's… I haven't… processed him yet."

"Then _process_." Tony's voice was sharper and harsher than a punch, the latter word spat out like poison. He'd gone worryingly pale since they first faced Fury. "We'll wait right here. Tell him…" The billionaire's voice broke and he cleared his throat. "Tell him that we're right here waiting."

The coroner opened his mouth, then seemed to think better. Instead the man nodded. He disappeared quickly to take care of his bleak duties.

Time seemed to stand still as they stood there. Trying to make sense of what happened. Trying to convince themselves that this was really happening, no matter how little they liked it.

It took some time before they realized where the small, strange suffering noises were coming from. Steve was the first, turning his head towards Wanda. She'd clasped a hand to her lips, her eyes wide and full of tears. Her whole frame was shuddering under the weight of grief. One by one the tears began to roll, the muffled sounds from before transforming to open sobs.

It was the most horrible sound they'd ever heard, because it meant that this was all real.

* * *

That night was long and dark. Overwhelming. One by one they began to fall into a restless slumber, until only Fury, Steve and Natasha were left awake. They turned their heads, sharp eyes full of ache, when the coroner appeared.

He cleared his throat, obviously unsure what to say. "He's… ready. But the hospital protocol…" They tuned him out right there and then. As Fury pulled the poor, unfortunate and scared looking man aside Steve and Natasha made their way to the room he just left.

It was bigger and brighter than they'd expected, and it took some time before their eyes adjusted. On a metallic slab in the middle of the room lay Clint, eyes closed and his expression serene. The man seemed heartbreakingly small, frail and alone, abandoned there. Almost unrecognizable.

Gone was the man who met life-threatening situations with witty remarks, who never missed, who… simply was always there, whenever they needed him. Instead they had this unnaturally still stranger. The coroner had washed him a little to get a proper look at all the injuries but some blood still stained Clint's hair and face. The autopsy-cuts crossing his friend's chest were among the worst things Steve had seen in his life.

But it was still Clint, Steve reminded himself. Whatever was left of the archer, anyway. And they'd take him home.

Beside him Natasha was so tense that it had to hurt. All color had disappeared from her face, and her blazing, raging eyes shimmered suspiciously under the artificial lights. When the soldier stepped forward he pretended to not notice how she wiped her eyes angrily with an unsteady hand.

Steve's own hands weren't entirely steady, either, while he wrapped the white sheet around his friend. Covering as much as he could but mindful to leave the face unhidden. Clint had always hated the dark. The archer felt much too light when he finally picked up his friend, gently, gently. He'd heard someone say that after dying a person loses the weight of their soul. It might've been poetic if it wasn't so cruel and unfair, that Clint should lose so much. He had more heart and soul than anyone Steve had ever met. He wished now that he would've told his friend as much, before…

* * *

/ _Clint groaned. Loudly and miserably. "_ Have I mentioned before that sometimes I really hate your plans? _" The man breathed sharply through his nose. "_ And if these creeps capture me? _"_

 _"Yeah, you've mentioned a few times." Steve was aiming for a light tone but had a feeling that he failed miserably. "Don't worry. I'll never leave a man behind."_ /

* * *

They left the room as quickly as they could, hating it and knowing that Clint would've detested it even more, if he had any say anymore. The others were right outside when they emerged. Faces grim and no eye entirely dry. Wanda and Natasha took both sides of Steve, staying as close as they could but neither touching. Tony took the front, visibly doing his best to not look at their fallen friend. Thor and Bruce took the back with morose expressions, the scientist fighting against Big Green so hard that his teeth made a nasty sound.

They weren't with Clint when he passed away but at least they could still do this, no matter how much it hurt.

No one noticed that one person didn't follow. Fury looked on for as long as he could stand it, then tore his gaze away with blazing, haunted eyes. His hand wasn't as steady as he would've liked when he took his phone.

* * *

Phil Coulson was, surprisingly, still asleep when the text message came through. He frowned, drowsy and confused. Who…?

He could've sworn that the words he read stilled his heart for five agonizing seconds, before releasing it with even more pain. ' _He's gone. I'm sorry._ ' He didn't need any elaboration. He knew immediately, deep in his gut.

"Phil?" A softly murmuring woman's voice was followed by an even softer hand laid against the bare skin of his back. "What's wrong?"

Phil didn't even hear. He stared at the words. Wrestled furiously under their crushing weight.

His memory summoned Clint Barton's face to his mind, as the boy looked when they first met. Too you, mistrusting, so very angry at the entire world. In a moment the image transformed to the grinning older version he remembered so well that it was painful.

* * *

/ _"Another visit to the medical, Barton." Phil's voice was sharper than he'd intended. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"_

 _The younger man shrugged. "Stop being over dramatic. I knew that you had my back." It was the first time Clint ever expressed trusting anyone._ /

* * *

Phil buried his face to both hands and, for the first time in forever, burst into tears.

* * *

After Natasha's phone call Laura hadn't been able to sleep. When the first rays of morning sun came to play she finally stopped trying and made her way to the kitchen. Two more call attempts to Natasha, which went unanswered, and she started to make coffee. She really, really needed coffee.

She was pouring water when she felt it. Cold that shot through her, ran down her spine like a million mice. She lifted her gaze slowly, with effort, and peered through the window.

They were so pale that they looked like ghosts, all of them. Especially with the early morning's light and mist playing tricks. But after about fifteen seconds of staring she was convinced that the Avengers were really there, marching towards the Farm with solemn expressions and red, puffy eyes. And then, against her will, her gaze traveled to what was in Steve's arms.

She didn't burst into tears. Nor did she collapse, or slump to the floor. Instead she froze entirely, barely breathing.

Didn't it only make sense that everything just _stopped_ when so many things she'd been dreaming about turned to ashes right before her eyes?

* * *

It was a bizarre dream. Cooper was walking all alone on a dark beach. The sand beneath his feet was soft and surreally white, sighed with each step. "Dad?" he called out, the fog everywhere around him so thick that it was hard to see. There was no response. Strange. His dad always answered him. "Dad?"

And there he was. There were only a few steps separating them but for some reason Cooper couldn't bring himself to cross the distance, his feet getting stuck on the sand. The man gave him a sad smile, one that was disturbingly different from the usual, and a small wave. Then walked into the water and disappeared.

Cooper's heart was racing. He wanted to scream, wanted to call out with everything there was in him. But he couldn't make a sound, couldn't do a thing to stop this from happening.

Cooper woke up with loud gasp, cold sweat covering him and moisture in his eyes. He kept telling himself that it was all just a bad dream. Until he saw aunt Natasha sitting at the foot of his bed.

Lila was in the redhead's arms, holding on desperately with her face buried to the woman's shoulder and sobbing miserably. The look on Natasha's face… Cooper _knew_ , long before she spoke. "There's… been an accident."

Cooper's young heart shattered in his chest.

* * *

Bruce couldn't handle any of it. All the people, the grief, the sheer emotional overload. In the end he retreated to the porch, fearing what might happen if he'd lose control over himself. He froze upon discovering that he wasn't alone.

Laura sat there, trembling. Before he could flee she noticed him and wiped her eyes. "Hey." She appeared sheepish, unsure what to say. "I, ah… I just needed some air."

Bruce nodded. Under different circumstances it might've been amusing how slowly and cautiously he approached. "Me too." Big Green and a beautiful, fragile house full of people – some of them children – didn't mix very well.

They sat in a silence, staring at the yard area in front of them that seemed oddly empty and hollow. Laura cut the heavy quiet so suddenly that it startled him. "He didn't leave an unfinished renovation project this time." Sensing his confusion she went on, wiping her eyes again. "He, ah… He always left behind a project. Said that it was for luck to have something he needed to come back to complete. But… This was the last time, so…" She trailed off with a shiver, like each word had hurt more than she could stand.

Bruce had no idea what to say. How to comfort her when he was feeling too much. "I'm sorry."

Pathetic, really. But Laura seemed to understand. She nodded slowly, her moist eyes soft when they met his briefly. "Yeah. I'm sorry, too."

This time a child's heartbreaking, miserable cry interrupted the silence that fell, startling them both. Bruce hadn't notice baby Nate until Laura lifted him and whispered something softly, making the child fall asleep once more. A tear shone in the sunlight as she stared at her son. "We… We were supposed to have one more. Just one. We both felt that four was the perfect number."

Bruce's eyes widened as realization dawned. His stomach knotted. "Are you…?"

"No, no", Laura denied quickly. She winced, yet again wiping her eyes. "We…" She cleared her throat. "We ran out of time."

Bruce wanted to say 'sorry' again but felt that there was no point. Instead he watched Nate as he slept, unable to not register all the little things inherited from Clint. Grief tore at him like claws, and he was almost sure that somewhere inside him the Other Guy also whimpered from ache. "He did", he murmured, more to himself than Laura. Sensing her question, he went on. "Leave behind unfinished projects, I mean." A family. Children, one of them so young that he'd never really get to know his dad. Just when he was supposed to come home for good they lost him for good. It was unfair, cruel, all of it.

"Yeah." Bruce was so focused on the child that he barely heard Laura, didn't notice the tears on his cheeks or her watching him sadly. "I guess he did."

* * *

/ _It was one of those long nights. When bad dreams and recent events wouldn't leave Bruce alone, refused to give him a moment's rest. From the Tower's kitchen he found Clint and two mugs of steaming hot coffee. He didn't ask, simply accepted the drink gratefully._

 _It was impossible to tell how long passed until Bruce found his voice. "Do you ever ask yourself why?" He didn't mean to say it out loud. At least in that tone. He wasn't even sure what he meant._

 _Instead of providing words Clint pushed a photograph towards him on the table. It was worn, clearly much loved. From it two small children and a beautiful woman looked up at him. "That's why." The archer's voice was soft, understanding. "Maybe they can be your reason, too. All the Coopers and Lilas in the world. We can't give up on them." It was the first time Bruce heard the names of the archer's kids. He never did see his friend give up, until a certain car accident._ /

* * *

Thor felt out of place in the mourning house. He didn't know what to do, which was infuriating because he'd been taught from early age to always be in charge over any situation. He didn't know what to say to his grieving… friends.

They'd become his family in this new, bizarre realm. This world was their home but with them it became his second home, too. Now one of them was gone, and Thor had no idea how to face it. The harsh teachings of his father were rooted deep, but the ache gnawing at his insides was nonetheless real and intense.

* * *

/ _"It's okay to miss him you know", Clint pointed out one night. They were at one of the Tower's balconies, the archer sitting on the railing and he leaning against it as they watched the stars. They'd been quiet for at least five minutes and Thor shivered when it was disturbed. Clint didn't even look towards him but somehow still knew that he was thinking about Loki. "He was your brother."_

 _"He was a lousy brother." So was he. But it was still a little too early in their team bonding to admit as much out loud._

 _"I know." Clint's eyes were darker than usual when they darted towards the stars once more, seeing something only the Hawk was aware of. "I actually know what I'm talking about for once, so take my word for it. Sometimes brothers suck. Sometimes family members screw up. Doesn't mean you'd miss them any less if they're gone."_

 _Thor shivered. The frowned, trying to distract himself. "What do you mean, families… suck?"_

 _Clint grinned. Some of the invisible weight that'd been sitting on his shoulders disappeared. "You really aren't from around here, Goldilocks."_

 _"And who is this Goldilocks you keep referring to?"_ /

* * *

Thor was brought out of the memory when he felt something break under his foot. Looking down, he was dismayed to discover a completely destroyed Lego-house. As though that wasn't bad enough, at the same time he sensed someone watching and turned his head to meet Lila's eyes. She'd obviously been crying and was still sniffling where she'd curled up on the couch, forming a tight, tiny ball of a human child.

"I'm sorry", Thor apologized immediately, and wondered what he was truly sorry for.

Lila shrugged. "It's just a toy." She was clutching at something, and Thor felt his chest tighten when he recognized one of Clint's shirts. The little girl was staring at it with shimmering eyes when she whispered. "Daddy said that you're from another world behind the stars. Did you ever go there with him?"

Thor nodded slowly. Then realized that she couldn't see it. "Yes, a couple of times." He really didn't want to talk about Clint, but if she needed this how could he deny her?

Lila sniffled again, more loudly this time, and clutched the shirt tighter. "Good." It was more of a whimper than a whisper. "Daddy… He always said that those who are… gone…" She frowned, struggling to understand. "That they're really, really far away, in the stars. But, if you've shown him the way… Then he won't get lost. It's scary to get lost."

Thor had absolutely no idea what to say. There was a lump in his throat that refused to go away, and he had to blink several times to clear his vision. And then, so abruptly that it scared him, Lila burst into loud, agonized sobs. Thor didn't know the first thing about comforting a child, nor did he have to. The second he was near enough Lila clung to him desperately, the sobs intensifying. She felt terrifyingly tiny and fragile in his arms.

"Can you… Can you go there, and ask daddy to come back?" she begged, the words barely comprehensible. "Please, tell daddy to come back."

Thor could name exactly two times in his life when he'd experienced the kind of pain he did then. He squeezed his eyes tightly closed. When he finally spoke his voice was hoarse, choked. "I truly wish I could." He didn't remember ever saying anything quite so honest.

* * *

Unwilling to risk the kids accidentally walking in on their dad's body, the team and Laura decided to lay him to the barn before he was buried. Until noon Laura refused to set a foot inside, even the thought being too much. Or perhaps, Tony mused as he approached the building at around ten in the evening, Laura knew that once she walked in, it'd be too painful to let go and walk away.

When Tony entered it took a while before his eyes grew used to the dim light. Once they did he discovered that Clint had been washed meticulously. There wasn't a drop of blood visible, and if it wasn't for the color of his skin and lips one might've imagined that the archer was just taking a nap. Tony hated that he knew better, almost as much as he loathed his inability to look away. His eyes stung hellishly and he balled his fists so hard that it hurt.

 _Damnit, Feathers…!_

* * *

/ _With a frown on his face Tony glared warningly as Clint shuffled to his laboratory, a huge, recently stitched up wound on his arm and a mighty bruise on his face. "I probably need to have my ears checked. Because I could've sworn that I heard the doc mention bedrest."_

 _Clint scoffed. Then winced, regretting it. "Yeah, well, me and staying still don't mix well." The archer winced, and the genius felt eyes on him although he was looking away determinedly. "What are you working on, anyway?" the Hawk inquired while flopping to a chair beside Tony._

 _"On the full-body armor I've been threatening you with." He silenced his friend's oncoming objections with a new glare. "The next time you pull a stunt like that you may get your skull cracked open! And I'd very much prefer keeping you in one piece."_

 _"Hey." Clint's tone was oddly reassuring, despite the circumstances. The Hawk seemed to see far too much. "I'm okay. I may be Murphy's law on two feet but I'm also stubborn." The man grinned. "Maybe I'll live to a hundred, just out of spite."_

 _"I'll make sure you do. Even if I have to cover you in bubble wrap." Tony bounced up, restless, still on the edge and definitely unwilling to think about at what age his friend might die. "I'm getting ice-cream. You want some?"_

 _"Got any mango left?"_

 _"You don't deserve mango after just trying to get yourself killed again." Tony rolled his eyes when something flew at the back of his head. An eraser, apparently. Did he still have an eraser? "Really mature, Pigeon."_

 _"Never, ever mess around with me about ice-cream, Tin can."_ /

* * *

Clint didn't get to live to a hundred. Didn't even get to turn fifty. All because of some idiot who just left him there, all alone…

"Tony, don't." Laura's eyes, swollen from crying, were sharp as they met his. "Clint… He told me that sometimes you have this look on your face, when you're about to do something stupid. So… I'm saying what he would. Don't."

Tony snorted, happy to look away from his friend's body. "He should know. He's done enough stupid stuff to rival me." He wondered if he'd ever manage to use past tense. Using it would be admitting that…

Laura gave him a sad, small smile. "Sometimes you sound so much like him that I wonder if you're some sort of long-lost brothers."

A stab of guilt went through Tony's stomach. He gulped and looked down, for once wondering how to set his words. "Look… I'm sorry, that the whole… Civil War _crap load_ stole him away for such a long time." All those months when Clint couldn't come home… The longing and aching the whole Barton family had to suffer… It felt particularly cruel now, when it was thrown at their faces just how little time the Hawk actually had left.

Laura seemed surprised, but only for a second. "I was mad at you, for a long time", she confessed. "But… Clint's a very, very… _very_ stubborn grown man." So he wasn't the only one unable to bear the past tense. She squeezed her husband's hand tightly, like there was still hope that he might return the gesture. "He can't stand down when he feels that he's needed. Ever."

The wave of grief-induced bitterness was harsh and unexpected. Tony's stinging eyes narrowed. "I've never seen that guy miss _anything_." He shook his head, angry and so hurt that it took his breath away for a while. "How the hell did he succeed in missing _a goddamned car_?"

Clint didn't react to his harsh language. To the accusation, downright insult. Would never react to anything ever again. Just slept on, the person who used to live in that body already somewhere far away.

"Tony?"

He didn't realize how badly he was trembling until he heard Laura's worried voice. He coughed, embarrassed. She just lost a husband, the last thing she needed was seeing him like… _this_. "So." It took all his strength to keep his voice from breaking. "You've been here for…" He checked the time. "… what, almost eleven hours. And the others are getting worried. Let's go back inside, yeah?"

Laura nodded. It was easy to see how much even the thought of walking away was eating at her, even though she knew that she had to. "Just… Give me a minute. I need to…" She couldn't bring herself to finish.

Tony tried not to look. Laura deserved privacy, especially in a moment like this. But still he saw, from the corner of his eye, how she leaned closer to Clint and whispered something that brought tears to her eyes. Then, ever so softly, she gave the archer a kiss. There was still a little hope in her eyes when she squeezed her husband's hand one more time. Seeing the hope die out was more painful than anything else.

They walked away in a silence, and both hated the thought of abandoning Clint into the dark.

* * *

Laura couldn't bear even the thought of going to the bed she used to share with Clint. Instead she headed to the couch. And found that something had been left there waiting. A small, beautifully wrapped gift. Along with a note written in Natasha's familiar handwriting.

' _I said on the phone that Clint forgot something. This was it. The idiot remembered your birthday for once._ '

Laura opened the wrappings slowly, unsure if she was ready to face whatever was inside. She found a matching pair of wrist watches. One for a woman, one for a man.

' _Yours until the end of time_ ', had been carved to the back of the woman's watch. Clint had also added a post-it note. ' _Unbearably corny, isn't it? I know you love me, anyway._ '

Her heart aching and shattering almost literally, Laura picked up the second watch. ' _STOP BEING LATE_ ' commanded the inscription. This one also had a note from Clint. ' _See, I'm trying? I love you, too._ '

Laura had cried earlier. But there, with the last gift she was ever going to get from Clint, she broke down entirely. Feeling like the whole world was crashing down on her.

* * *

The following morning had barely dawned as Wanda made her way towards the barn. It didn't matter how early it was. She hadn't dared to sleep the night before in fear of bad dreams.

* * *

/ _In the weeks following Pietro's death nightmares were Wanda's constant companion. Having to see him die would've been one thing. But to feel it, like it was happening to her as well…_

 _Clint was still recovering from the gunshot wound he received. After six nights she was no longer surprised to find him from the Tower's biggest common space, watching TV. "What's on?" she inquired as she flopped down beside him._

 _He tensed up for a second, still not quite believing that she didn't blame him. Then his usual carefree façade was back, like it never even cracked. "Some stupid Adam Sandler flick." He gave her a mock scolding look. "Stop wrinkling your nose. The goal is to not think, remember?"_

 _Wanda rolled her eyes. "Mission accomplished." She felt almost peaceful. For a second, just one, she forgot that Pietro wouldn't be on Clint's other side when she looked. She shivered as she remembered._

 _Clint noticed, of course. "Look… I know that you miss him, that it hurts. And I know that you don't feel like a proper member of the team yet. That you feel all alone in the world. But you're not." He paused. "I have no idea why he gave his life to save me, but I'll make sure that you'll never be all alone in the world."_

 _Wanda felt childish, and stupid. But she couldn't deny the comfort those words brought. "Promise?"_

 _"I promise, kid." This time Clint wrinkled his nose. "This movie_ is _stupid."_ /

* * *

Laura gave Wanda a look of sympathy as she approached, like sensing the memory that trapped her. "Wanda, sweetheart… You don't have to do this."

Wanda shook her head. As furiously determined as Clint used to be. "I do. After everything he did for me… Everything that I didn't manage to repay… I owe this to him."

Laura nodded, knowing better than to try and argue. They helped Clint to his mission gear, knowing that he wouldn't want to be laid to rest in anything else. The outfit hid all his scars, the still chest, the fingerprints death had left on his skin. And then it was done. He was ready.

Wanda wasn't. She swallowed convulsively and stared at his face, wishing that she would've gotten to see his eyes just once more. A pep-talk, a grin, a witty remark… Just this once… "If it wasn't for him I'd still be with Hydra. Or dead." Convincing her to join the Avengers… Coming back from retirement to help her… She caressed his face with a tender hand, unashamed of her tears. He deserved them. "And I never even…"

"He knew." Laura's eyes were full of grief but her smile was warm. "Trust me on this. He knew."

It wasn't until much later, once the worst of the pain began to ease, Wanda realized that Clint kept his promise. She'd never be alone again. Not with the huge, insane, dysfunctional family of misfits and perfect fits he introduced her to.

* * *

None of them wanted to bury Clint but they also couldn't keep him in the barn forever. It was time to say goodbye. And Cooper was missing.

Natasha was the one who found him. For a seasoned agent it wasn't much of a task to follow the sounds something being broken, grunts and sobs. As it turned out Cooper hadn't ran very far from the Farm. There in the woods the boy smashed his dad's bow against a tree with all his might, over and over again, sobbing hysterically.

"Hey!" She grabbed him firmly but gently, easily prying the weapon from his grasp. "You break that, and you'll regret it."

"Why?" Cooper gasped out a sob. "Dad, he… He was supposed to teach me archery! He was… He was finally supposed to come home, for good! But now he's… He's…!"

Natasha wasn't exactly good at comforting people. But there, with only the trees witnessing, she wrapped both arms around the grieving little boy and allowed her own eyes to fill up. "I'm mad at him, too", she admitted, her voice barely carrying through the child's crying. "He was the first person who ever believed that I could do something good. He showed me the best that I could be, because that was what your dad did with people. He wasn't supposed to leave me behind."

* * *

/ _Natasha took a breath, her eyes scanning through her surroundings with suspicion. "I really don't like this", she muttered barely audibly. This was the first time she was on a mission with another agent. With someone who was once sent to kill her. "If you let them kill me…"_

 _"_ I won't _", a reassuring voice whispered to her ear comm._

 _She opened her mouth again. Then heard a thud. Turning her head, she saw an enemy who'd fallen from an angle she would've had no hope of seeing. An arrow was sticking from the man._

 _"_ See? I've got you. _" Clint sounded smug, and something else she couldn't name. "_ Trust me. _"_

 _To her immense shock Natasha did, even if she wouldn't have admitted it to anyone._ /

* * *

Cooper's sobs began to quiet down. But the boy was nowhere near calm, still shaking and sniveling in her arms. "I miss dad a lot", he admitted quietly.

"I know." Natasha tightened her hold on the child. "I miss him, too."

* * *

They chose to bury Clint under three beautiful, massive trees, close to the pond that marked one line of the Farm's property. Sun shone through the thick branches, casting a surreal, ethereal light on the whole area and making the pond's surface shine like a field of diamonds. The place was quiet and so beautiful that it was impossible to not stop and look. He'd sleep well there. No one could have bad dreams in a place like that.

None of them felt like talking much and they knew that Clint wasn't a fan of long speeches. Especially those of him. With heavy hearts and somber expressions they said goodbye to both Clint Barton and Hawkeye. Lila was crying, Cooper held back tears so hard that he was trembling and the adults weren't far from breaking down, either. In his mother's arms baby Nate whimpered mournfully the entire time, even though he should've been too young to understand the loss he just suffered.

From one of the branches above them a small, beautiful hawk stared at the group through the whole ceremony. As though keeping watch. It didn't rise to its wings and fly away until they'd all disappeared from sight. Its sorrowful, apologetic cry pierced the area's peaceful silence.

* * *

The next three days passed by in an odd, heavy fog. Like time itself had stopped, or forgotten them to their sorrow. Until on the evening of the third day Laura found Nick Fury from her kitchen.

The one-eyed man appeared even more serious than usual. It almost looked like he was grieving. "I won't stay long", was his greeting. He handed her a flash drive. "I… found this when going through Clint's possessions and data. He'd left instructions to have it delivered to you, if…" He trailed off.

Laura accepted the item and stared at it hesitantly. Yet again tears filled her eyes but she blinked them back determinedly, struggled to pull herself together. "Do you… want to see his…" She looked up to discover that Fury was already gone. "… grave?"

As soon as the kids had gone to bed that night the whole team gathered around Laura's laptop. Huddled closer to each other than would've been necessary, subconsciously seeking comfort from one another. Clint was taken away from them without a warning. But they could brace themselves for whatever this was.

Like anything would've been enough to prepare them for Clint appearing to the screen. He bustled around with a frown on his face. "… _this thing on?_ " Then he was looking at them, and for a while it was easy to believe that he was right there in the same room. He cleared his throat and scratched the back of his head, obviously wondering where to start. " _So, eh… Hi, guys._ " He took a deep breath, more solemn than they were used to seeing him. " _I'm recording this just in case… you know. Because, if my luck finally runs out… There's stuff that I want you to hear. You know, the kind of stuff that'd be way too embarrassing to say face to face._ " He tried to grin but it wavered. His eyes moved, as though scanning through them all. As though somehow transcending time and space. He felt close enough to touch, no matter where he really was. " _Thor… If someone told me… what, fifteen years ago that I'd be fighting beside someone from a different realm I would've told them to see a doctor._ " His smile was the kind he rarely let the world see. " _It's been an honor to fight beside you, Goldilocks. Look after this realm for me, yeah? Because it seriously needs a little help sometimes. To save it from people if from nothing else._ " He took a breath, alarmingly serious all of a sudden. " _Bruce, you're not a monster. You're one of the kindest people I've ever met. We've all got a dark side. Keep your Green one in line. And remember that you're not in any of it alone anymore._ " He swallowed loudly and looked away for a moment. " _Cap, I know that you'd do anything for your troupes. Sometimes more than you should. I'm not worried about leaving the team behind because I know that they're in good hands with you. I'll miss our talks, you know? It was nice to have another actual adult on the team._ " It took several deep breaths before he managed to continue. " _Wanda, I… I'm sorry that I'm another person you had to lose. But… You're one of the toughest fighters I've ever met. I know you'll be okay. Remember that you're still not alone. You'll always have a home, now, no matter what._ " He wiped his eyes swiftly although no moisture was visible. " _Tony… Try to listen on occasion. And stop carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. You've got a whole team to share it with you. Trust them._ " Then, as an afterthought, the archer continued. " _And Tin can? Stop hogging all the mango ice-cream. It's rude._ " By then the Hawk seemed barely able to continue but soldiered on anyhow. " _Please don't hate me, Natasha. For checking out on you. For all the crap. Remember that you're not the lost little girl I first met anymore. I watched your back for as long as I could, but… You'll be okay, now. Trust me._ " Tears flooded to his eyes as he braced himself for the hardest part. " _Laura, I… I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. That I wasn't there enough. That I didn't say I love you often enough, because I do, always will. That I never took you to Paris. That I'm…_ " He choked on his words, and a few tears spilled. " _That I'm dumping you like this. Because… I don't want to. I really, really don't want to go, and that's why this sucks so damned much. But if I have to, then… So be it. I'm not scared. Because… Cap's got one of my teams. And you'll do a fantastic job with the other. You have no idea how amazing mother you are, how lucky the kids are to have you. How… How lucky I was to have you. Maybe I got all that other misfortune because all my luck was wasted on you._ " He chuckled, but the tears he was choking back ruined it. " _Sorry. I couldn't resist._ " He wiped his face with both hands, took a deep breath and composed himself. True to his words he didn't seem to be afraid, just horribly, painfully sad. " _I'll miss you guys, so much. Maybe I'll even see you again one day. But don't you dare rush it! If there's something… you know, on the other side, I expect you all to have a million adventures to report when I meet you there._ " He wiped his eyes again. " _Okay, enough with this sappy stuff. Look after each other, will you?_ " He saluted them. " _This is Clint Barton, signing out._ " Then, on the last minute, something came to his mind. " _And Laura? There's something hidden to the attic, for the kids. Give it to them when the time's right._ " Struggling visibly to not lose control entirely, he began to bustle once more. " _How is this thing switched off…?_ " The screen went black.

The pain the group watching was left with was almost unbearable. Tears rolled down Wanda's cheeks. Steve, Thor and Bruce were all fighting a mighty battle to keep themselves together. Laura had buried her face to her hands, out of sight. She was trembling. Tony left the room as fast as he could. Natasha wasn't far behind. They didn't head the same way, and no one made a move to follow. They'd be back when they were ready.

It was a long, bleak night. The longing would never, ever fade away. But although the laptop's screen remained black, they couldn't chase away the feeling that Clint wasn't entirely gone, either.

* * *

It took three full weeks before Laura finally managed to convince herself to the attic. By then most of the Avengers had left, duty having called them. None of them really wanted to go just yet but they did, for Clint's sake. Only Natasha lingered behind. Her official explanation was that she didn't feel up to playing the team's babysitter yet.

In truth Laura was relieved she didn't have to face whatever she'd find alone. How Clint had managed to hide a massive cardboard box from her was beyond Laura. How he had the time to produce what was inside had her even more baffled.

There, in shockingly neat order, were three piles of letters. One for Lila, one for Cooper, one for Nate. A letter dated for every single birthday until the 30th. Why he chose that as the final date was anyone's guess. There was also a letter for each their wedding day, for when they might have their first child, for their graduation days and for when they moved into their first own homes.

Laura gasped, clasping a hand against her agonized chest while her eyes grew blurry.

All that time… Most likely almost from when he first found out about Cooper, because the child's name had been added afterwards… Clint had been preparing for the scenario that he wouldn't get to be there. He'd been making sure that no matter what, his children would know that they had a dad who loved them from the bottom of his heart and wanted to be there for them.

"Did you know about this?" Natasha asked, her voice unfamiliar.

Laura shook her head, again and again. It was impossible to explain how she could feel better and worse at the same time. She couldn't see anymore from the mist that'd taken over her eyes. "We were lucky to have you, too", she whispered.

* * *

 ** _Twenty Years Later_**

* * *

Lila Barton couldn't remember ever being as nervous as she was when stood behind a huge, white door, waiting for it to open. From the other side beautiful music and chatter carried to her ears. Suddenly her incredibly beautiful white dress seemed to be suffocating her.

A familiar voice echoed in her head. The words spoken when her daddy taught her to ride a bike. The only words he wrote to the letter her mommy gave her this very morning, tears in her eyes.

' _Are you ready?_ '

Lila took a deep, shuddering breath and closed her eyes for three seconds. Upon opening they were filled with the stubborn will she inherited from her daddy. A single tear rolled. She wiped it away calmly, longing stabbing her until the sensation eased. "I'm ready, daddy."

The letter fell from her hands, earlier. That's why she knew that he'd added more words to the other side of the paper. ' _I know. And I'm proud of you. I love you._ '

The doors opened, and Lila began to walk on alone. Every male member of the Avengers team had offered to escort her, as had her brother, but she'd refused them all. If her daddy wasn't there to do it she didn't want anyone else.

Her side of the family was a strange one, but she made it clear to her fiancé early on that if he wanted her, he'd have them as well. At the back, as far from others as possible, sat Bruce and Natasha. After all these years she still didn't know what was going on between them and didn't pry. As long as they were happy so was she. She could've sworn that she saw a smile on Natasha's face but it might've been a trick of her imagination. Thor sat a bit further ahead, and gave her a proper royal nod as she passed by. Beside him Jane rolled her eyes at his antics and smiled good naturedly. On the next row sat Wanda and Vision. Vision didn't seem to quite know what was going on, but nodded politely anyway when their eyes met. Wanda wiped her eyes and grinned, showing a thumb's up while nodding towards her dress. Steve sat nearby with Nate and Cooper, and once again Lila saw the man's true age reflected in his sad eyes. Cooper appeared handsome in his S.H.I.E.L.D uniform and his heavily pregnant wife was shining. Lila was the only one who knew what their baby's name would be if they had a son. Beside their row Tony was causing a lot of unnecessary hassle while filming the whole thing. Sitting, Pepper and the couple's teenage daughter – Claire, who was a spitting image of her mother – tried to smile, appearing utterly embarrassed. Her mommy sat alone on the front-row, smiling and wiping her eyes. She seemed proud and pained all at once, and Lila could only imagine what had to be going through her mind.

That was the family she still had. Not a single day had or ever would pass by without her missing her daddy. But she hoped dearly that wherever he was, he knew that she'd be okay. That they were all doing okay, despite the massive, unrepairable hole he left behind. And that they'd never, ever forget him.

Just then, seconds before she met with her husband-to-be, Lila felt something. A warm breath of air, caressing her perfectly done hair, pushing her forward gently. She smiled, tears filling her eyes. She knew what it was.

It was comforting to start a new chapter in her life, knowing that her daddy was still watching over her.

* * *

END

* * *

A/N: That was DEFINITELY one of the longest chapters I've EVER typed. And one of the saddest. Those poor dears…! (whimpers) BUT, at least none of them ended up alone. And their Hawk will always watch over them, no matter what.

Soooo… Was that a worthy conclusion? PLEASE, do let me know!

THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for taking this journey with me! So many of your joined in. I truly hope that you enjoyed as much as I did! (HUGS)

Awkay, I've gotta go and get some sleep. Who knows. Maybe I'll see ya again…?

Take care!

* * *

Guest: I know, right? (grins) But I'm afraid that the next one won't be as fluffy… (winces)

HUGE thank yous for the review!


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